A Charming Family Story
by McEvoyer
Summary: Post-season one. There's a storm and Snow, James and Emma have a little family bonding time. A bit of Charming family fluff :
1. Chapter 1

**Hey, so this is just a quick story that I wanted to write. It's set a little while after their reunion and it's kinda just a bit of Charming family fluff...which is just the best kind of fluff! Anyway, enjoy!**

The storm outside was relentless in its pursuit of achieving its goal of complete and utter destruction and everyone in Storybrooke was forced to take cover in the warmth of their homes while the whistling and howling wind battered against the windows and doors. Emma wasn't certain, but the storm seemed like just the beginning of worse things to come. Ever since the curse was lifted and Rumpelstiltskin released whatever that purple fog was – Emma wasn't totally informed by her father what it actually was – everything seemed to become...darker, if that was the word for it. She couldn't put her finger on it but something was definitely off. Well, besides Storybrooke being inhabited by fairytale characters and her parents being the same age as her and whatnot. But that was just details. Emma - though both forthcoming and reticent at the same time, which was a skill to say the least – found herself quite happy with her new family situation. She was even able to call them by their real names; Snow and James, that was, not Mom and Dad. That was still taking some getting used to.

She sat at the island in the kitchen, finding herself physically ducking every time the wind thrashed against the apartment. Snow stood at the edge of her bedroom still in awe of the fact that her daughter was sitting mere feet away from her. She moved tentatively over to her, placing a loving hand on Emma's shoulder. To her surprise and delight, Emma didn't shrug away like she sometimes did. Sometimes Snow had to remind herself to be patient with Emma and that it would take time for her to come around and to be fully acceptant to the fact that she was also a fairytale character.

"Sounds nasty out there," Snow commented, encircling the island to face Emma.

Emma nodded. "Yeah, I can't understand why James would go out in something like that. He's crazy if you ask me."

"Ah he'll be back any minute, he just had to tie up a few loose ends...and buy ice cream." Snow bowed her head as she giggled softly.

Emma was aghast, yet couldn't stifle a laugh. "You made him walk out in a storm just so he could get you ice cream?"

Snow shrugged, fixing the back of her hair. "Maybe."

"You're terrible!" Emma laughed heartily.

"What, there's a storm outside and we're stuck inside. Ice cream is a necessity in these types of situations!" Snow exclaimed, blushing a little at her request. Maybe she shouldn't have sent her husband out; it did sound like it was getting worse by the minute.

"The things that man would do for you," Emma said. Her parents really did love one another, especially if they were willing to sacrifice life and limb – in both realities- for each other. Even if it was for ice cream. Although she couldn't complain; ice cream sounded really good right now. Emma just hoped it was chocolate, but knowing that Snow requested it, she was sure it was. That was just another similarity they shared.

"Oh that's nothing," Snow waved off, leaning in on the counter, ready to conspire. Emma leaned in eagerly. "When I was pregnant with you I had these cravings for these cinnamon sticks – not like the ones you can get here, they came in stalk-form - and they only existed on the other side of the woods which was like an eternity away considering we didn't have cars like we do now. And, so every weekend he would go out before I woke and chop down some stalks and take them home so that I would have enough for the week. Hail, rain or shine he would go, and I could never stop him."

Emma smiled at her parents' story. She knew they were completely head over heels for each other but the way that James would do anything for Snow was just beautiful. Love really was the most powerful thing.

"He'd do anything for you, too," Snow said interrupting Emma's thoughts.

Emma cocked her head inquisitively, waiting for her to continue.

"Before we were faced with the prospect of having to go through the wardrobe, he worked tirelessly for months fixing up your nursery and adding little touches as he went along. He wanted everything to be perfect." Snow's eyes were alight as she recalled his work ethic. "It really was remarkable; your father couldn't wait to meet you..." Her voice trailed off remembering that they didn't have the chance to get to know her until now.

Emma shifted uncomfortably as her mother seemed to lose herself in thought. She wanted to lighten it up a bit. "And then he ended up meeting me when I'm like this!" she tried to laugh but it came out as more of a desperate sigh. The last thing she wanted was for her parents to beat themselves up again, they had a habit of doing that.

"I wish we could have watched you grow up," Snow whispered making eye-contact.

Emma felt the tears form at the back of her eyes, but they weren't going to do this, not now. "Yeah, me too, but the most important thing is that we know each other _now._ We will always be in each others lives and no one can stop that." She put a hand over Snow's in comfort. Snow smiled timidly back.

Just then, James barged through the door looking like he just took a long shower in his clothes. "I'm back!" he yelled, shaking the excess water off him, creating a puddle on the floor.

Snow danced over to her husband. "Oh Charming, you're soaked!"

"Yeah, that's what happens when you walk in a storm," Charming smiled, winking at Emma.

"Did you get the ice cream?" Snow asked quickly.

With a wry smile Charming raised a bag in front of his wife's face. "As you wished, my love."

Snow snatched the bag out of his grasp excitedly. "Thank you, sweetie! I'm going to run you a bath, you look like you need one."

Charming grabbed his wife's wrist as she turned away, "Hey, come here." He pulled her close to him and swept her up in an enchanting, passionate kiss. "A bath does sound nice," he affirmed as he let go of her reluctantly.

As Snow skipped out of the room with the ice cream in tow of course, James made his way over to his daughter. He flung his keys onto the counter.

"And who said that chivalry is dead," Emma mused as she picked up his keys to toy with.

"Well, chivalry is what we fairytale men thrive upon; we'd be nothing without it," he said whimsically, taking back his keys.

"That's true," Emma agreed.

"So what were you two talking about before I so rudely interrupted?"

"You," she confessed.

"What about me?" He was intrigued now. Emma knew that because he knitted his eyebrows together.

Emma sighed. "About how you were so excited to meet me."

James stared blankly ahead of him, his breathing faint. Emma waved her hand in front of him. "Earth to James?"

"What? Oh, sorry. So you were talking about me decorating the nursery I guess?"

"Yeah," she confirmed. "It sounds like you were really looking forward to becoming a dad."

James turned to face the blonde and he shyly brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. Emma didn't move for fear of disappointing him. Actually, that gesture was the most 'fatherly' thing James had done, as he was afraid of overstepping any boundaries. He wanted her to warm to him in her own time. "I always wanted a daughter," he breathed in affection, "Everybody in the castle was so excited and telling me how great it would be if we had a son, a prince that would be a great warrior in battle and a great representative for the kingdom, but I really wanted a daughter."

"Why?"

He inhaled deeply. "I wanted a daughter who was just like her mother. I wanted to look to her and feel my heart ache in my chest because she reminded me so much of her." He cleared his throat self-consciously. "And that's exactly what I got. A beautiful, strong-willed, tough daughter who is way more like her mother than she thinks."

This time Emma couldn't stop the stray tears escaping. It was so unusual for James to recall something and be so emotional. Usually, he would tell tales of great battles and of himself and Snow. But here she caught a glimpse of the father she wished she had always known.

"_Way _more than she thinks," Snow interjected from behind her husband. "And that, my dear Emma, is a great thing!" They laughed lightly together for a brief moment.

"But I want you to know, Emma," James began again, his tone a little serious, "It doesn't matter if you're twenty-eight days old or twenty-eight years old, we still love you the way we did when we held you for the first time; nothing will ever change that."

"And we're so proud of you, honey."

Emma gave a watery smile. "Thank you." She took a hand of each of her parents. "Now, James, could you please take a bath, you're dripping water everywhere!"

James chortled. "As you wish." He kissed the top of her head gently and then went and gave Snow another powerful kiss before jogging to the bathroom.

"Men," Snow laughed.

Emma snickered. "I know."

**So please, please, please review and let me know what you think! If I've portrayed a character in the wrong way, please let me know. I hope you enjoyed it!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey so this is the next chapter! I wasn't sure if I was going to continue with this story because I honestly had no idea where to take it...and kinda still don't but I'm just gonna go with it and see what happens! Suggestions are more than welcome, and I hope you enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

Emma woke with a start as a ray of sun sneaked its way into her room. The storm must have ran its course, she assumed. Unwilling to leave the comfort of her ridiculously cosy bed, she yanked the covers over her head in an attempt to shut out any light. The sheets were soft and fresh and smelled of lemon; Emma loved the detergent that Snow used when doing laundry. It was silly, but ever since Snow regained her memory she had become extra-motherly, if that was even possible, and wouldn't let anyone do the laundry...or cook...or clean. It was like she was making up for lost time. Emma wasn't complaining though; it was nice to have someone take care of her, even if it was for a little while.

Even when it came to Henry, both Snow and James were endlessly trying to be the best grandparents ever. Then again, having grandparents that were _the _Snow White and Prince Charming automatically made them cooler than all other grandparents. At least to a ten-year-old it did.

Thinking of Henry, Emma realised she hadn't spoken to him since she dropped him over to Nicholas and Ava's – or, Hansel and Gretel's, even. Emma was thrilled that he was making friends now that all the other kids in town remembered who they were - the idea of having friends who were fairytale characters was too good to pass up. And, she was glad that he was safe and sound in their house during the storm and during all the hustle and bustle and worry that was swarming the town what with curse being broken and the advent of a purple fog. There was no need to involve the children in...well, whatever was going on. Apparently, being the sheriff didn't really count for much when your own parents were the King and Queen. Yet, being the saviour had its perks; like being told that the main suspect in the purple fog fiasco was none other than Mr. Gold, or rather Rumpelstiltskin whom, along with Regina, had mysteriously disappeared without a trace; or that the purple fog was indeed the release of magic – which just can't be good. Emma knew as much about magic as mortals did about Storybrooke.

And now having newly discovered, over-protective parents wasn't really a help either. They told Emma as much information as she needed but refused to let her partake in anything that they deemed dangerous. "We can't lose you again," Snow had said defiantly with a hint of fear and authority. It was not like Emma would deliberately go out and endanger herself and she understood where her parents were coming from – she was the same about Henry – but she felt like she was being treated like a child.

Although, not exactly much had happened over the past while; mainly James and a few members of the fairytale community met every few days to discuss 'progress' but Emma knew there was no progress when it came to the whereabouts of the two most wanted people. Obviously Regina went into hiding when everyone regain their memories knowing full well that she was a moving target, but for Rumple to vanish into thin air after releasing magic didn't make much sense. 'Magic is power,' he once said. Well, in the fairytale book he did anyway. So if magic was power then why wasn't he to be found anywhere? Nothing really made any sense as far as Emma was concerned.

But before she could rack her brain anymore, the bedroom door creaked and opened slightly, revealing Snow's petite figure. "Emma, are you awake?" she whispered sweetly.

Emma turned in the bed to face her mother who had now moved bedside. "Hey, what's up?"

"I was just wondering if you were getting up any time soon?" She ran her hands along the windowsill, gathering up dust on her finger. "God, I must clean in here, it's filthy."

"It's not that bad," Emma protested tiredly, "and yes, I was planning on getting up soon."

Snow brightened. "Oh, good, I was going crazy out there; there's nothing left to clean! Except for in here..."

Emma used her hands to push herself upright. "Snow, please don't go all clean freak in my room; this is my space." She gestured mockingly around her and Snow nodded in defeat. "Where's James anyway?" It was unusual for James and Snow not to be joined at the hip.

"He went out to help clean up the town after the storm." Snow looked distracted and started to play with her fingernails.

"And you didn't go with him?"

Snow, flustered, ruffled her hair and collapsed onto the bed. "No, I thought it would be best if I stayed here."

Emma eyed her suspiciously, bringing her knees to her chest, the covers still around her. "What happened?" she asked her mother who now looked at her with tear-filmed eyes. This can't be good.

"We had a fight," Snow confessed, toying with her wedding ring.

Emma tried to put on her most comforting voice. In the time she had known her parents they hadn't fought. Not once. They were too blissed out on one another to have time to fight. "A fight about what?" Emma inched closer to the woman so that she could take one of her hands in hers.

Snow sighed heavily. "You." _That _was not what Emma was expecting. Why were they arguing over her?

Seemingly reading Emma's mind, Snow continued with a sniff. "We were talking last night when you went to bed about how we should include you in the town situation and we had a disagreement."

"What kind of disagreement?"

Snow gazed into her daughter's eyes. "Emma, we just got you back and straight away we're already in a situation that could prove harmful to our family – and to the community as a whole. We can't lose you again." Those words again. Words that both made her feel loved and worried at the same time. An odd combination.

"I'm not sure I follow."

Snow swiped away a wily tear that had fallen from her eye. "Some people in town think that because you are the saviour you should be the one to go hunting for Rumple and Regina, the one who should risk their life for everyone else, but your father and I were not willing to let that happen." She was defiant now as she spoke. "They have magic now, Emma, and you have no experience in our world; they could kill you with one strike. It is just not feasible."

Though not too pleased with her mother's assumption that she would be practically useless in any situation from here on out, Emma did have to accept the fact that Storybrooke, and everybody in it, were not the same as when she came. She was right; magic was unpredictable and dangerous. But that still didn't shed any light on why Snow and James were fighting. "Okay, but what has this got to you with you guys fighting?"

Snow stood up and leaned against the wall, hands behind her back. "James conveyed our reluctance to the others but they did not take to it well. Instead of backing off they pushed harder and harder and well, your father gave in and suggested to me that we forge a plan and have you at the centre of it."

"You want my help in finding them?"

Snow was restless. "No, you can't, Emma. That's what we fought about. James decided that it'd be best for all of us if we included you and I was completely against it. I mean, how could he be so...so...reckless? You are our _daughter_; the one we had to send away to protect and now he wants to send you out into the firing line like some warrior to be a target? To get yourself killed? I'm sorry, Emma, but I could _never_ agree to something that intentionally made you an object to be thwarted!" Her voice rose with every sentence she uttered, tears streaming down her face as she looked at Emma. "And to think that it came from _James_, my _husband, _your _father_? It pains me to the core! Needless to say that the fighting only escalated into stupid things like how we treat you and Henry." She was exasperated by the time she was finished. Emma had never seen her so fired up.

"What do you mean?" Emma moved to the edge of the bed, kicking off the covers, resting her arms on her thighs.

Snow composed herself. "It's silly really," she started, shaking her head, "it's hard to figure out how to act around you. What I mean is that you're not a kid and we didn't have practice being parents and then to have a child who is now twenty-eight years old just takes some time to adjust to. We argued about how to talk to you, how to parent you. It was just a stupid argument tacked onto the end of an even bigger argument. Anyway, he slept on the couch and this morning I woke up ready to talk it over and he had left a note saying that he was going out to help in the clean-up."

Emma rose from the bed and hugged her mother; she was in desperate need of one by the looks of it. Emma hated the fact that she was something that could come between people so in love – they literally wrote the story of true love - but she figured that being a daughter came with a territory. She rubbed her back soothingly, trying to comfort her. "You should talk to him," Emma suggested quietly as they broke away. "You guys shouldn't be fighting over me; I am a grown-up, you know," she added with a laugh.

"I know but what if it was Henry?"

"That's not fair and you know it," Emma retorted but flashed a smile so as not to make her feel bad.

"I know," Snow said, "but we can't lose you again. We just can't."

"You won't," Emma reassured. "Now, come on, you have to make up with your husband."

They both washed and ate and got ready to head into town but before they left the apartment, Emma's phone rang. "Hello?" she answered.

"Emma, you've got to get to Granny's right now; it's Henry." James' voice had an urgency that Emma hadn't really heard before and it made her bones chill. Without further delay she ushered Snow out the door and rushed at lightning speed to find out what was going on.

**So please let me know what you think by reviewing! If you have any ideas of how I should go about this please don't hesitate to let me know, I'd love to hear what the readers thinks! Hope you liked it **


	3. Chapter 3

**So this is chapter three! I hope you guys enjoy it and please review…**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon A Time. **

Emma used every ounce of energy she had to propel herself closer and closer to Granny's but no matter how fast she pumped her legs she felt as though she was running on a treadmill –constantly trying so hard but never reaching the destination. Why was it always when you have to get somewhere quickly that it seems to take forever to reach? But she couldn't slow down; the way James spoke over the phone replayed over and over again in her mind and all she could think about was holding her son in her arms and telling him she loved him. She had just got over the whole 'her son being poisoned' thing and now something else had happened to him; she was heavily considering wrapping him in bubble wrap and locking him up at home. At least there she could keep an eye on him.

"Emma please stop for a second!" In all her worry and fear, Emma had forgotten about her mother trailing behind her. "EMMA!" Oh…that was Snow's 'I'm your mother, do what I say voice'. Even though they'd only really begun their quest of knowing one another, Emma knew that voice all too well. It was actually kinda scary…

Not willing to frustrate her mother any further, Emma arched her head to the side as she ran so as to see Snow. "I can't stop; I've got to get to Henry!" she yelled huskily.

"No, Emma, you don't understand, you have to stop!"

But before Emma could respond she was careening into something solid and face-planting the pavement. She splayed her arms out on the cold, damp ground, groaning from both the shock and the throbbing pain in her head. _That _was going to leave a mark. With her scraped hands she managed to push her body up until she was on her knees, slowly taking breaths to recover from her admitted embarrassment of falling in the street. As she rose back to her feet, Snow finally caught up to her, realising herself that she was not as fit as she was back in the Enchanted forest; Storybrooke seemed to knock all of the adrenaline and gusto out of her. Mary Margaret never really had any reason to run in all fairness.

Emma laughed once without humour as she faced her mother, blushing still. "Ouch," she eventually acknowledged touching the bump that was now forming on her forehead.

"Oh, Emma that looks nasty," Snow commented, patting lightly around the bump with her delicate fingers. Emma raised her eyebrows ever so slightly at Snow's maternal instincts. _She was catching on to this mother business quite quickly, _she noted with a wry smile.

"It's fine," Emma shrugged off, remembering why she was in this position in the first place. "I have to get to Henry."

She started to walk off but her mother snatched her wrist and pulled her back. "Emma you need to breathe. Just look around you," she nodded her head to the storm's wreckage. Emma did what she was told, taking in the damage. The whole town was in a terrible state; boards and signs and fences sprinkled the roads and broken glass from windows and doors littered the area. "You were walking so fast that you didn't even pay any attention to your surroundings. You didn't even see the broken fire hydrant lying idly in front of you as you pounded your way through town like some kind of woman possessed," Snow mentioned softly.

Emma tapped her foot impatiently. "I have to get –"

"To Henry, I know. But Granny's is only a few minutes away and you're not going to help anybody by going in there all fired up." She paused to run her hand along her daughter's arm in comfort; she knew what it was like to worry about her child. "Look, I know James and I know that if Henry was in grave danger he would have personally come and thrown you over his shoulder and brought you to where you had to be faster than you could even say 'Henry'."

"Then why did he sound so urgent over the phone?" Emma's heart was thumping violently in her chest with every passing second. She crossed her arms tightly in an attempt to contain the pounding.

Snow smiled faintly. "Because James is Henry's grandfather and he loves him, just like you do and just like I do." She gently latched her hand to Emma's. "Now come on, let's go."

Granny's could not have felt further away but as soon as Emma arrived a wave of relief washed over her. Catching sight of his family, James rushed out to meet them. "He's okay," he soothed as Emma tried to barge past him.

"What happened?" Emma demanded breathlessly, her hands made into fists by her side.

James' glance flickered to Snow before turning to meet his daughter's penetrating glare. "He's trapped."

"What do you mean he's trapped?" Emma's blood was boiling; so much so that she was pretty sure steam was about to shoot out of her ears. She made an effort to get past her father's strong physique again but to no avail.

He pushed her back gently keeping his hands on her shoulders. "I don't really know; I came out early this morning," he shot another quick look at his wife, "and Red called me to come here as quick as I could and when I came here I heard someone calling for help. When I made my way inside, I saw Henry lying under a wooden beam. I tried to lift it myself but I was unsuccessful," he explained carefully, his voice mellow and tender.

Emma's face paled. Her son was trapped. _Trapped! _"Is he okay?" she bellowed. She struggled against her father's stronghold.

Once again, James was calm. "Yes he's fine. As soon as I called you, I made contact with a few others to help me here and I called who came promptly and made sure that Henry was okay. The beam doesn't seem to have done any damage other than a few cuts and bruises."

Emma relaxed a little upon hearing that. "So he's out? He's okay?" she inquired.

James clamped his lips together. "It would seem that the beam was heavier than we anticipated."

She narrowed her eyes. "What are you saying James?"

"He's not out just yet but we're positive that he'll be out soon."

Noticing Emma's concern well up again, Snow spoke for the first time. "How did this happen?" She clutched her daughter's arm with both her hands.

James locked his eyes to hers. "The storm I would assume," he speculated, "Granny's looks like it got the brunt of it. As for Henry being there, I have no idea."

"How was he unharmed if it was so badly affected?" Snow wondered aloud.

His eyes twinkled for a millisecond. "Must be magic," he surmised with a modest grin.

Unwilling to hear anymore, Emma took her chance and bounded around her father and stormed into the diner.

There he was. Her son. Lying in the centre of the diner they spent countless hours in talking about anything from school to the weather to Operation Cobra. Lying there, pinned to the floor by a monstrous beam, his small frame still as people gathered round to lift in unison. Even in seemingly life-threatening situations he was obedient and the epitome of serenity. _What a kid. _

His head rotated to see the new entry into the space. "Emma," he breathed happily.

Tears stung the back of her eyes as she danced around debris on her way over to him. Placing her hand on the floor, she crouched down to kiss him on the forehead. "How you holding up, kid?"

"I'm a little stiff and my legs are a bit sore but other than that I'm okay," he answered honestly with his signature toothy smile. Emma's heart burst with pride and love. Her son was so brave. She didn't know many ten-year-olds that would take a wooden beam in their stride.

"Are you sure you're not hurt?" she continued with her interrogation.

"Yeah, I'm fine. The beam landed at an angle so it didn't hit me at full force. My left leg is just stuck underneath; no matter how hard I try, I can't get it out."

Emma brushed his hair out of his eyes. "Well you're gonna be out of here soon enough; your grandpa has it all under control."

His eyes were warm. "I know; everyone listens to him so closely. I guess I never realised how powerful he was until I saw how people reacted to his orders."

"He is the King," Emma pointed out with a laugh. "Now, are you going to tell me what you were doing here during the storm? I thought you were in Nic-Hansel and Gretel's?" She still had to be careful when it came to people's real names.

Henry sighed heavily, blushing at his mother's request, raising his eyes to the ceiling so he didn't have to meet her stare. "I was. But I was in bed and everyone else was asleep and I realised that I didn't have my walkie-talkie with me; I left it in Granny's when we got lunch before the storm hit." He stopped for a brief second gauging the blonde's reaction. "And I needed the walkie-talkie so I wrote them a note and I left."

"So you went out in a storm just so you could get it? Henry what were you thinking?" Emma couldn't help herself now; all her fear and worry mixed with her anger and disbelief creating some new concoction. "You could have been hurt or worse!"

Henry flinched at the words. "I know, I know and I'm so so sorry but I needed it!" he cried in protest.

"What could you possibly have needed it for that it was so important that you went out in a storm to retrieve?" Despite her frustration with her son's actions, she found herself running her hand through his hair in gratitude for his safety.

"I…wanted to tell you 'goodnight'," he whispered.

Emma was taken by surprise. "Wh-what?"

The kid closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. "Well we've all been living together since the curse was broken and this was the first night that I didn't…that I didn't get to say goodnight to you. I just wanted the walkie-talkie so I could say it to you. I didn't think the storm was that bad," he confessed with a watery smile.

Emma's heart broke. Her kid put himself in danger just so he could wish her goodnight; in a weird, slightly messed-up way, Emma was completely touched by her son's action of affection. "Oh, Henry." She kissed his forehead again. "That's really sweet but you can never, ever, under any circumstances, ever go out in something crazy like that again, do you understand me?"

"Yeah. I'm sorry."

She breathed a sigh of relief. "It's okay, kid, but just promise me, please? You have no idea how worried I was."

"I promise," he smiled.

"Good," she beamed back, standing back up as men travelled all around her tying ropes around the beam.

"I love you…mom," Henry said, remaining still again as the men did their work.

That did it. A tear fell from her eye, landing on the dust-ridden floor beneath. "I love you, too, kid."

She backed away toward Snow who was standing quietly in the doorway as her father organised the troops. On the count of three, a loud roar erupted from the men and the wooden beam was lifted off her young son long enough so he could squirm out from under it. Once he was freed the men dropped the beam back onto the ground with an enormous thud. Henry struggled to his feet and ran over to embrace his mom and grandmother. "Henry, thank God you're alright," Snow murmured against his hair. James galloped his way over to his family and picked his grandson up in his arms in a secure hold. "Don't ever scare us like that again," he warned lovingly before placing him back down gently.

"Can we go home now?"

Emma smiled widely. "Yes, we can, kid." Henry took his mom's hand and led her out the door, most likely extremely excited at the prospect of sleeping in a bed and not on a floor.

James stopped his wife before she made her exit and looked deep into her eyes. "Are we okay?" he asked running his hands along her arms. Finishing at her hands, he caressed her knuckles with his thumbs. Snow gazed at her husband with solemn eyes, still unsure whether she was ready to forgive him or not. He was willing to put their daughter's life in danger and that was something that she could not comprehend at this time. Not when they just got Emma back. The pain was too great to even wrap her mind around. "I don't know," she replied pulling away.

"Snow-"

"Come on," she cut him off, "they're waiting on us."

**I wasn't quite sure if Henry would actually do something like that but I really wanted to have a cute little mother/son moment between them! And as for Snow and Charming, I wanted Snow to stay a little angry at James because I don't think she would forgive him that quickly; they'd need to talk it out first…I hope you all don't mind that. Oh and I initially started this story as more of a Charming family fluff piece that focused on the family's relationship with one another and that's the way I kind of want to keep it, so I don't know how much of an actual post-broken curse plot there will be. There will be some I would assume but I don't know how much….I hope that's okay! Please let me know what you think! **


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four I hope you guys like it and please review! **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon A Time. **

Back at home, Emma was tucking Henry into her bed so that he could rest up in actual comfort from the events he had suffered over the hours previous. Though claiming that he was absolutely fine, Emma ensured that he spent at least a couple of hours just trying to catch up on the sleep he had missed out on. The sun blasted its way through the residue of grey storm clouds and illuminated the room and Emma knew that that would make life even more difficult for her – Henry wouldn't sleep if the room was too bright. She drew the curtains and draped an extra blanket over the window area to further darken the room. That was the best she could do but it seemed to do the trick as Henry settled into a snug position, ready to droop his eyes into slumber for as long as his body would allow. She pinched the covers under and around her child and immediately noticed him wince and pull a distorted face whenever she tightened the sheets enshrouding his left leg.

"Henry?" she asked apprehensively, pulling away from the bed.

Henry groaned sleepily in response, his eyes firmly closed at this point.

"Henry, does your leg hurt?" she nudged him gently so as to keep him awake a little longer. She felt bad but if her son was hurt she needed to know about it. Although, if being perfectly honest, she didn't know too much of the art of Band-Aids and ointment. She'd have to have lessons from Snow on the more intricate aspects of motherhood; she had the unconditional love part down but if she was serious about taking care of him full-time she had to dedicate time to the more gritty parts of being a mother. And, with one glance at Henry she realised that that was something she was very willing to do.

"A little," he croaked hoarsely. He fluttered his eyelids in an effort to strain them open to see Emma.

"I'm going to just have a look at it, okay?" Emma warned as she removed the blanket carefully. Henry nodded heavily. She peeled it back ever so slowly so as not to hit off the danger zone, and lifted the leg of his pyjama pants up to just before the knee. And there right in front of her was a confirmation of her frets. Henry had a sharp gash on his kneecap surrounded by a black and blue bruise. She knew it wasn't a serious injury but both her mind and heart were racing rapidly.

"Oh, Henry why didn't you show me this earlier when I asked you if you were hurt?" she asked as she began to inspect the gash closer.

"It's not that bad and I didn't want to worry you."

Emma raised an eyebrow. "More than you already have, you mean."

"Right." He tried his best to plaster a big smile but it came off a little too flatly. Must have been the lack of sleep. "And speaking of, how did you get that nasty bump on your head?"

Emma reflexively reached up and dabbed the new addition to her forehead. She sucked in air through her teeth at the dart of pain she felt. "It's not that nasty," she defended, "and anyway, as soon as I got it, I let my _mom_ inspect it, and that is exactly what you should have done," she quipped, looking at it again. The cut wasn't as deep as she feared and the bruise would be gone within a few days, so all in all he was going to be just fine but despite herself, she couldn't help but feel slightly…guilty, if that was the word, for Henry being in this position in the first place. She knew that it was not her fault that he went out in the storm, yet at the same time she knew that he went out in it just so he could make contact with her. It was a strange feeling and one she assumed came with being a mother. Just another thing she had to adjust to, she figured.

Henry, noticing his mom's silence as she poked and prodded his wound, cleared his throat. "I-I am really sorry," he said meekly.

Emma halted what she was doing to flash him a reassuring smile. "I know, kid, and it's alright. Really. All I care about is you getting some sleep and resting after your little ordeal."

"Sounds like you could do with some rest yourself after _my _ordeal," he joked.

"I think I do," she concurred with a sincere laugh. She found it fascinating that she could love Henry as much as she did while only knowing him for a relatively short time. She thought it impossible that she could love him more with each passing day, but alas, that's exactly what happened. "Now I'm going to go get you a Band-Aid, so you can go asleep."

"Thank you," Henry said.

She looked at him, puzzled. "For what?"

"For taking care of me," he replied. "And, for _finally _letting me sleep!"

Emma shook her head at her son's witty comment. But instead of replying, she slipped out the door, fulfilling his wish, and headed for the kitchen area. As she grew closer, she heard the hushed voices of her parents…arguing. Trying not to interfere, she sidled up to the wall so that they couldn't see her presence and there, she listened intently to what was going on literally feet away from her.

James and Snow stood in the centre of the main living room; Snow with her hands on her hips, leaning ever so slightly forward and James with his arms crossed in a defiant yet somewhat sensitive manner. He knew by the look on his wife's face that he was in trouble and that it was not something that was going to suddenly disappear any time soon. He should have never had suggested that Emma become the epicentre of any plans that were being formulated. He, himself, was definitely not fond of the idea; he took the same view as his wife on the issue but he saw himself weakening due to the enormous pressure being put on him by the members of the committee and felt that he should at least suggest it. _So_ not a good idea.

"James, I can't believe that you're even entertaining this absurd notion that Emma should be the one to play the lead role in whatever play you're working on!" Snow exclaimed, jabbing the air with her pointer finger in the throes of utter frustration. She tried her best to keep her emotions in check but that was proving far too difficult a task. She felt like she was running around in circles with her husband, with nearly every argument answered with the same response. It was like she was stuck in this disbelief limbo.

James shook his head with purpose. "No, Snow, that's what I've been trying to tell you. I don't like this idea any more than you do." His voice was thick with affection, his eyes drenched with compassion. He hated the fact that it was him who made his wife hurt - there was nothing he hated more than seeing the love of his life twisted in anguish.

"Then why even bring it up?" Snow wasn't letting up. Truth be told, James loved that about her. Maybe just not at this particular moment.

He inched a little closer to her. "Because as a King I have to shoulder the responsibility for the community as a whole and I have to look at the big picture. I need to discern the best plan and figure out how to act. People depend on me to lead them to victory, to lead them into the future. I felt cornered, like by discarding this plan I was ignoring my duty to the people."

"Yes, as a King you do have to do all that, and as a King you know full well that putting somebody who knows nothing about magic in the centre of a plan that will inevitably _involve _magic is a move that could jeopardise the whole operation." Operation…huh, she was starting to sound like Henry now. James didn't respond but let his wife continue as it was clear that she wasn't finished just yet. "And, as far as I'm aware, a King is not the one that should be backed into a corner in the first place and I have never seen you ever back down from something you believe strongly in, so if you are so against this plan of action then why aren't you pushing it back?" Her words were coming out hurriedly now as her eyes began to fill up…yet again. Storybrooke really did have a detrimental effect on her emotions…and her fitness.

"I-"

"_And, _your duty to the people? How about the duty you have as a _father_? Emma isn't just some mild-mannered civilian; she's our daughter! Our daughter who we just reunited with after twenty-eight years. _Twenty-eight years_! You're supposed to protect her and be there for her, not send her out to die! I just can't believe that you think this is a good idea, that somehow sending Emma to do the dirty work is supposed to magically make everything better." She sneered the word 'magically', releasing her chagrin.

This time James closed the gap, locking Snow with his strong hands. He gazed into her green eyes and felt himself melt with love. Snow couldn't bring herself to meet his look. "Snow," he breathed powerfully, "nothing matters more to me than our family. You, Emma, and Henry are my life. Being King is wonderful and provides a great sense of pride for me but it can never ever beat the feeling I get whenever I lay my eyes on my jovial grandson, or embrace my strong-willed daughter …or kiss my breathtaking wife. _That_ is what keeps my heart beating and keeps me going. And that is why, as the King, I have to make tough decisions; I have to keep my family safe and away from harm's way and right now, everybody is in a precarious situation and it is my duty both as a King and as a father to make sure that our community is secure from anything that may potentially hurt my family or anyone else's family."

His words struck a chord with Snow and she placed her hands on her husband's face, rubbing the scar she gave him, breaking under the view of his tear-soaked eyes. "So you'll tell them that using Emma is no longer an option?" she asked, her voice lightening.

James took her hands in his and moved them away from his face. "We have to explore all options," he said with authority. Snow was right; as a father he wanted Emma nowhere near this but as someone who had to rule the people, he couldn't just let the fact that she was the saviour slip by him because of his personal feelings. He had to keep the option open. Unfortunately for him, this was an option Snow expected to be closed. Indefinitely.

"So you're saying that you're not going to even consider my feelings or your daughter's feelings in this?"

"No, of course I am, but I do have to look at the issue objectively," he explained, noticing that Snow was gradually backing away from him, her face a mask of betrayal.

"Objectively," she repeated, attempting to understand. "So Emma could be seriously wounded or worse but that's okay because we're looking at this _objectively_."

James rubbed his forehead aggressively. "No, that's not what I meant. I-" But his words were short-lived when he saw a flicker of motion in the corner of his eye. "Emma?" he questioned.

The blonde sighed and moved into sight of her parents…who were in the middle of a pretty big fight. Not the best timing and her hiding skills would definitely need to be improved. "Hey," she acknowledged awkwardly.

Snow didn't reply and scurried out of the room and into her bedroom, slamming the door shut.

"I guess I'll be staying on the couch longer than I thought," James joked sadly, slumping onto the seat in defeat. He really was trying to smooth out the problem but he only made it worse.

"Yeah," was all Emma could say giving her dad a sympathetic smile before searching for that Band-Aid she promised Henry.

**Ah there seems to be a lot of angst in the Charming household. Will it be resolved? You'll just have to wait and see! **

…**..All I have to figure out is _how_ to resolve it! Haha **

**Hope you enjoyed, and please let me know what you think! **


	5. Chapter 5

**A little Charming/Emma interaction! Hope you guys like it!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon A Time. **

James grappled with the lone blanket he had to keep himself warm on the couch all night, tossing and turning and kicking in frustration. They'd have to get a bigger couch, he decided as he, in his chagrin, booted off the blanket and sat upright. He hated sleeping on the couch; he should have been in bed, lying next to his wife, his world spinning perfectly on its axis. That was the way it should be. After twenty-eight years of being in a coma and living in a trapped world where he was ultimately separated from his soulmate and his child, he had to ruin it all in a moment of weakness. He rubbed his face vigorously with his hands as he envisioned the sheer betrayal embedded on his wife's face when he told her that he had to, 'keep their options open'. What was he thinking? There was no way that Snow would ever be on board with Emma fighting in battle or whatever the situation needed her to do. And, the more he considered it, there was no way he wanted her to do it either, but it was like his head and his heart were disconnected, conflicted.

With some struggle, he managed to heave himself off the couch…and keep his balance. It was amazing how well he could actually manoeuvre considering the lack of sleep he was getting the past few nights; practically a miracle, really. As he wandered over to the refrigerator he caught sight of Emma plodding down the stairs from her bedroom in an almost zombie-like state. Like father, like daughter, James surmised with a wry smile.

Emma was startled to see a figure gliding in the dark, but relieved when the cold light of the refrigerator unveiled James instead of some late night thief or axe murderer. After all, things weren't always what they seemed in Storybrooke and an axe murderer was a perfectly plausible theory. Pushing her blonde curls off her face and over her shoulders she tentatively waved to him. "Hey," she said quietly, keenly aware that both Henry and Snow were still asleep. She couldn't help but feel slightly awkward around the man after she stumbled into the 'Charming' family disagreement earlier which, coincidently, was about her. Still trying to figure out her place in this family and this new magical world, it didn't help that her parents were at loose ends when it came to her.

"Hey back," James replied _charmingly_ with a toothy grin. Emma regarded her father; he wore a crinkled navy t-shirt and some really odd chequered pyjama bottoms, all the while his eyes were drooped and blood-shot, like he hadn't had a restful night in years. In a swift movement he removed a jug of orange juice from the refrigerator and kicked the door closed with his right foot. "You want some?" he asked, gesturing to the jug.

"Sure." Emma took a seat, watching how graceful James was as he moved around the kitchen, fetching two glasses, placing them neatly on the counter, and pouring them with such fluidity and ease that made such a mundane task look like it was the most intriguing thing to witness. She assumed that his grace stemmed from his combat skills he had to learn to dance out of sticky situations while yielding a weapon. If only she could move like that; most of the time she was too preoccupied with whatever was going on around her to even notice _how _she was moving. Snow did say once that she marched around like a woman possessed; that couldn't have been too graceful…

"There you go." He slid a glass to her and took a gulp of his own.

"Thanks," she acknowledged, slinking the juice down her throat.

James took another sip before putting the glass down, and with a sigh he leant his hands on the counter as he shifted his weight onto one leg. "Listen," he started, scratching his head, "I'm sorry about what you heard earlier; you shouldn't have been subjected to that. It must have been strange to hear your parents arguing over you." He looked at her with pleading eyes hoping that she'd understand. The last thing he wanted was for Emma to revert back to the way she was when she had just found out that he and Snow were her parents; they had made so much progress since then.

Emma spun her glass in circles. "It's not the first time that people have argued over me," she shrugged self-consciously. James remained silent, telepathically urging her to elaborate. "When I was about Henry's age I was in a foster home with a family that had three kids of their own. Em, one night I woke up and I was thirsty so I crept downstairs and I heard my foster parents…discussing." She stole a peek at James who smiled at her encouragingly. "So I sat on the bottom stair and I listened to them. My foster mother had found out that she was pregnant with their fourth child, and it wasn't hard to put two and two together and figure out that five kids was too many for one household, that someone had to go." She searched her glass of orange juice. "And that someone was me. They must have argued about it for over an hour because by the time they had finished I had no tears left in me. My foster father wanted me gone as soon as the following day, but my foster mother wasn't having any of it; they argued nearly every night for about a week and within a month I was put back into the system."

Her hands trembled and she clasped them around her drink to put a stop to the shaking. She hadn't planned on telling that story; her past was not something she liked to divulge in regularly. It just slipped out. But Emma didn't want James to be worried about what happened earlier – both he and Snow loved her, that much was obvious, and she wanted to reassure her father that he had nothing to be sorry about. Their argument was a totally different one to the one she was subject to when she was just a kid – her parents argued over her safety whereas her foster parents argued over when to get rid of her. Completely different.

"Emma," James mumbled, his eyes welling up at the hurt pervading his daughter's voice. The more he learned about her past, the more he became angry at Regina for enacting the curse and the more he wanted to play the protective father.

"So you don't have to be sorry," Emma interrupted, not willing to take this line of conversation any further than it needed to. She drank the rest of her juice in one take, her eyes fixed on his face.

"But-"

"It's okay, James. Really. I'm over it."

Though knowing that that was a far cry from the truth, he sensed that continuing that wouldn't be too wise of a decision and so he decided on a change of topic. "I somehow don't think that your mother will be so…forgiving," he construed with a worn smirk.

"Ah, she'll come around soon and then you guys can get back to looking at each other longingly," Emma jested, spinning her glass again, thankful for the subject change.

"I don't think so," James responded, placing a hand over hers to stop making noise with the glass. Emma slouched in subtle childish embarrassment. "She hasn't called me Charming in three days."

"Is that a bad thing?" Emma arched an eyebrow, folding her arms across the counter.

He nodded. "It is when it's me. I guess I'm not charming my way out of this."

Emma leaned forward. "You know, it's kind of stupid."

"What is?"

"You guys arguing," Emma stated.

James stretched widely before collapsing his arms back onto the counter. "How so?" He, too, raised an eyebrow. Must be a family thing.

"Because technically it's not _your _decision to make; it's mine."

James closed his eyes tightly, locking the bridge of his nose with thumb and finger. "I know," was all he said.

Emma looked at him quizzically, not expecting that lacklustre answer. With all that was happening she was convinced that her parents had forgotten the most important part of the situation at hand. She was an adult, not a child, who was more than capable of making a decision. "You know?"

"Emma, of course I know. I mean, you're not exactly a child; you're a grown woman."

"Then why not include me in your…discussions? Why argue over me?"

"Because you are our daughter," he clarified in an almost sardonic tone. To him the answer was obvious. Clearly it wasn't to Emma. To her it was black and white. Oh, how like her mother she was.

"And?"

James was dumbfounded. "And? What do you mean 'and'?"

"So what? Yes, I am your daughter but I'm also a person who should have a say. You guys shouldn't be fighting over something like this. It is ultimately my decision no matter what you guys think."

"You're not seriously thinking about actually putting yourself on the line, are you?" James was worried now. Even though he expressed his desire to keep his options open, he hadn't expected this turn of events. He knew his daughter was headstrong and that she seemed to thrill-seek quite often (like himself) but to throw herself in the face of danger was crazy. There was no way she'd be able to contend with the likes of Regina or Rumple…not when they had magic anyway.

"No, the idea of me leading the way into a plan where I have no idea what will happen doesn't sound too desirable, and I have a son to think about. I can't afford to be that reckless. I'm not stupid; I know magic is involved and that I am no match for it, but that doesn't mean that I can be rendered useless either. I want to help in any way that I can but no, I don't think I should be the one that the plans revolve around. It doesn't sound like a good plan to me."

James breathed an enormous sigh of relief at his daughter's words. "Oh, thank God," he laughed quietly.

"You know, for someone who is locked in battle with his wife over this, you're pretty relieved at what I said," Emma pointed out candidly.

With a finishing chug of his drink, her father ambled around to her and pulled himself onto the counter-top so that he could face the blonde. "Emma, you heard what I said earlier about my duty as King, but you also heard about my duty as your father. Yes, you are the saviour and you broke the curse, therefore not to consider you as someone who could help would be entirely ignorant, but as your…dad," he beamed as he murmured the word, "I can't bear the thought of you getting hurt, or losing you again. I need to stay strong for my people but it's difficult when the person everyone is calling for is someone who you love _so _much." He pushed a stray lock of her hair off her face. "It is strange to see the baby you held in your arms as a woman with a child of her own. A woman who can make her own decisions and who, essentially, doesn't need her parents. We had to send you away straight after you were born and in what felt like a split-second we learn that our baby is a woman. A split-second. It's overwhelming. Everything inside of me tells me to treat you like an adult but my heart finds it so difficult to do that. You're my baby girl, and you always will be. I never want you in danger. I want to protect you. You don't necessarily make it easy, what being the saviour and all, but that doesn't mean that I'm not going to try."

Emma shyly smiled at her father. There was so much sincerity in his words; it was no wonder that his nickname was Prince Charming. "You know, sometimes I forget that I wasn't the only person in this family affected by the curse being broken. That I wasn't the only one who had to slot into this family situation. I tell myself that I don't need parents because I know how to survive on my own but I never knew what it was like to be loved. Unconditionally loved. And it's new and it's scary. But now that I have it, I don't want to lose it. Ever."

"Neither do I and neither does your mother."

"Then you need to set it right with Snow. You've got to put your kingly pride aside and go with your heart."

"I know, but I've really messed it up."

Emma stood up from the seat. "Then I'll talk to her."

"You will?"

"Well if you're so afraid…"

"I'm not afraid," James quickly defended.

"Well even so, let me do it first, okay? I'll soften her for you!"

James hopped down from the counter and chuckled. "You're the boss, princess."

Emma narrowed her eyes. "Don't call me princess."

"But you are a princess, princess," her father teased.

"Whatever I'm going back to bed," she grunted.

"Hug?" James opened his arms.

"Seriously?" Emma scoffed but judging by the look on her father's face, he wasn't kidding. Reluctantly, she embraced him briefly and before he could say anything else she was making her way back up the stairs.

"Night, princess," James whispered with a smirk as he crawled back onto the back-breaking couch.

**I hope you all don't mind that I had a father/daughter chapter. I just thought that was the way to go following chapter four. I plan on having some Emma/Snow and Emma/Henry interaction in the next chapter but for now I thought this was needed. And I think it gives James a few layers, too. ;) Please, please, please review and let me know what you think! **


	6. Chapter 6

**So here's the next instalment! I hope you enjoy…**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon A Time.**

Emma tip-toed into Snow's room early the next morning with a tray filled with her favourite breakfast items: a glass of orange juice, two slices of toast with melted butter, a bowl of Cheerios, and a fat-free yogurt. It turns out that being someone's roommate is helpful in terms of learning the other's preference for food, or in this case, cereal.

As soon as Emma went back to bed last night after the heart to heart she had with James, her mind was awash with everything he said; especially the 'princess' part. It sounded silly, but throughout all the pretty massive changes that occurred at once, Emma had let the fact that she was a princess slip through the cracks. She most definitely didn't see herself as one; she was a loner with unruly hair, a person who found others for a living and who didn't depend on anyone for anything. A princess had perfectly groomed hair, pranced around in huge frilly dresses and frolicked around a palace being waited on hand and foot. Well, that was Emma's take on it anyway and it couldn't have been more opposite to her actual self. No, princess was definitely not something Emma saw herself as. Needless to say, sleep was not something she got last night; she found herself wide awake.

She crept quietly over to Snow's bedside table and planted the tray down on it. She then laid a hand on her mother's shoulder and shook her gently. "Snow," she sang. No response. "Snow," she tried again, shaking a little harder. Still nothing. Maybe I shouldn't wake her up, Emma thought, making her way from the bed and toward the curtain that separated the room but she stopped in her tracks when she heard a groan come from behind her. Turning on her heel, she saw Snow tossing in the bed, flailing her arms around in search of a comfy position. She knew that search all too well.

Snow grumbled again and this time her head and shoulders shot up out of the bed as if she was hit by lightning. "What…what's going on?" she scrambled, her hand flying up to touch her forehead. "Emma?" Snow looked at her daughter in bewilderment.

Emma was quick to reassure. "Nothing's wrong I just brought you some…breakfast." She gestured to the tray to Snow's right.

"Breakfast?" Snow asked, clearly in absolute puzzlement over where she was, never mind what time it was.

"Yeah," Emma confirmed with a shy crooked smile. "I figured it was my turn to make you something, even though technically the only thing I did make was the toast…"

"That's so nice of you," Snow remarked, placing a hand over her mouth to block a yawn that was brewing. "What time is it?"

The blonde meandered over to the tray, removing the bowl and spoon and handing it to her mother. "Nine-thirty."

"_Nine-thirty_?" Snow was usually up by seven so to hear that she had overslept by a large margin must have been a shock to the system. The mere fact that Snow overslept alarmed Emma and lent insight into how much her argument with James upset her. Her shoulders drooped and she swirled her cereal around with the spoon, searching it for some kind of answers.

"It's okay, everyone is entitled to sleep in every once and a while."

Snow stopped with the spoon to smirk at her daughter. "Emma, I'm a schoolteacher; I haven't overslept in as long as I can remember."

With a small laugh, Emma perched herself in front of the woman on the bed, somewhat amused at her behaviour. It amazed her how easy it was to be around Snow; she could just walk into the room and automatically feel this…warmth. She chalked it down to the fact that she spent months under the same roof as her, talking and gaining knowledge about her as a friend, but deep down she believed it was more to do with the bond they shared as mother and daughter.

Snow scooped up a spoonful of Cheerios and shovelled them into her mouth as if remembering that she was hungry all of a sudden. She chewed robotically, every now and then sneaking at glance at Emma who was sitting in front of her soundlessly. This fight with James really had her off-balance. They had spent so much time finding their way back to one another that the chance of a disagreement or a fight was slim to none; true love won out over any infringements that may have raised its head. And the worst part of all this was that she knew James was sorry; she knew he wouldn't risk Emma's life. She knew it.

But then why did she get so angry?

"He's really beating himself up over this, you know. I'm pretty sure the couch is getting the brunt of it," Emma conveyed emphatically. "He just wants to make it right."

Snow kept chewing mechanically. "I know," she responded quietly with her mouth half-full. "I know."

Emma sat up straighter. "So…do you think you can cut him some slack? It's a tense time and I think everyone is acting a little crazy and making rash decisions." She loaded her voice with as much optimism and sweetness as she could, although that alone was tough enough. Optimism and sweetness were not exactly the first things that jumped to mind when one thought of Emma.

Her mother sighed, put down her spoon and brought her orange juice to her lips. "Maybe."

"Maybe? Come on, you know James," she urged, "and you know me."

Snow spied her over her glass. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"What I mean is that you guys can argue all you want but ultimately it's not up to you, it's up to me." She was quick to continue as she watched her mother's eyes grow as wide as saucers. "But don't worry; I won't be making any hasty decisions and I won't be involving myself in anything that involves magic." Her hands shot up as she finished her defence.

Snow seemed to mull that over, pushing the tray away from her. She knew Emma was right; Snow couldn't just tell her what to do – Emma wasn't a kid, after all and she could fight her own battles. So to speak. "No involvement in magic?"

Emma shook her head. "None whatsoever; you have my word."

"I guess that's fair," the woman decided. She was pretty sure that was the best offer she was going to get from her daughter who, as a mixture of herself and James, was ultra-stubborn. Engaging in battles and solving problems was embedded in her DNA.

Emma replied with a smile, reading her mother's mind.

"Can I ask you something, Emma?" Snow's eyes were alight as she gazed into the distance, visiting some faraway land.

Emma shifted uncomfortably, pulling her loose leg up onto the bed so she could sit cross-legged. "Sure," she shrugged self-consciously.

Snow dropped her eyes and ran her hand along the bottom of the tray. Emma thought she looked much younger in that pose. "How did you feel when you feel when you found out we were your parents? Were you happy?"

"Eh…I don't know…it all happened pretty quickly."

"But when you think about it now, are you happy?" There was an undercurrent of wariness in her tone. Or fear; it could have been fear.

Emma inhaled earnestly. "Well, it's still pretty overwhelming if we're being honest with each other." There was no shame in revealing the truth.

"Oh. Yeah. Of course."

"But I am…warming to it. I don't get attached to people, that's just how it is, but that's changing now. I was getting attached to you before I even knew we were related," she professed without making eye-contact.

"You know it's so funny, you know the way I have my memories as both Snow and Mary Margaret? I look back on the time we spent together just as friends when we joked about me being your mother and think of how correct - yet blind - we were to the truth that was literally sitting in front of us. I mean, besides having my chin, you have my nose," Snow jousted, pushing her daughter playfully. "I can't believe I missed that."

"Hey, I didn't catch on either!"

Snow's grin was as wide as her face would allow, her eyes twinkling. "All that time we spent together as friends," she marvelled, "and we didn't know."

Emma cocked her head to the side. "Okay, in fairness we _are_ the same age!"

"True! I suppose if you looked at me you'd never think that I gave birth to you," she toyed, knowing how awkward that made Emma. Even amidst all the confusion and craziness, she loved to poke fun at the situation they found themselves in. Sometimes a good laugh was the way to get through whatever life threw at you.

"Yeah…that's just weird." Emma wrinkled her nose. It was just too bizarre to think about.

"And I'd imagine this is not what you imagined your life to be like," Snow guessed.

"What, twenty-eight and living with my parents who happen to be fairy tale characters? Oh yeah, I imagined that down to the very last detail," Emma said sarcastically.

Snow arched her eyebrow. "Some kids would dream of this, you know."

"Yeah when they were, like, six!" Emma laughed freely.

"Well you can't help it that you were destined for greatness…princess."

"Seriously, princess? What is with you two…" Emma trailed off. "Wait, you've never called me princess before…" She leaned in. "You heard us last night!" she gasped.

Snow fell back onto her pillow. "Guilty as charged," she cried, pushing a pillow over her face.

"And you let me plead James' case?" Emma asked incredulously. She grabbed the pillow from her mother's grasp and struck her with it. "So not cool, your _Highness!_"

"I'm sorry," she chuckled genuinely, "but you two are about as quiet as a jackhammer! I could hardly catch a wink!"

Emma stumbled off the bed and fixed her top that was riding up on one side. "You're leaving poor James out there in marriage limbo," she accused good-naturedly.

"No, I listened to what he said but I still had my own feelings to deal with." She sat back up in the bed and made an effort to free herself from the stronghold of the covers to stand in front of her daughter.

"You need to talk to him."

"I know, and I will. This not talking to him is killing me."

With that, Henry bounded into the room. "Morning guys, grandpa made pancakes!" he exclaimed, enthusiasm oozing from his every pore. He clearly loved this living arrangement. And, though she tried to hide it, Emma did, too.

"Pancakes sound great right now," Snow chirped, kissing Henry's head. "How did you sleep?"

"Great! Your bed is _amazing, _mom!"

Emma sighed. "Don't I know it, kid." She missed that bed; the floor just didn't hold the same appeal. But Henry was happy and that was all that mattered to her.

"Hey, your pancakes are getting cold." James strode into the small space with a huge smirk on his face that exposed his perfect white teeth. A smirk that could make her heart race, Snow noted.

"Yeah, come on, guys!" Henry beckoned as he ran out to the kitchen. Emma was relieved to see that his knee wasn't causing him too much trouble this morning.

Emma followed suit, nodding subtly to Snow and then to James, hoping she would catch on. Luckily for her, she did.

"Charming," Snow sang sweetly. "We should talk."

By the look on his face, those were the words he was dying to hear her say for the past few days.

**I wanted to have another Snow/Emma chapter because I find their relationship so interesting and I hope you guys did, too! Please review and let me know what you think of the story so far!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hey guys! I can't tell you how much I appreciate all of the reviews and follows this story gets; it makes my day! So thank you all so much! Hope you enjoy this next chapter!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon a Time.**

James' heart thumped wildly in his chest, throttling blood through his veins at maximum speed. His breath quickened and butterflies fluttered in the pit of his stomach. That was just the effect Snow had on him – and she hadn't even spoken yet. Love was a mysterious thing after all, yet this was love mixed with a dollop of fear. Fear because his wife, though sporting a small smile, still looked at him with steely eyes. It was enough to make anyone quiver under her stare. But finally, following the last few days, she wanted to talk to him to sort everything out. What a relief.

He knew that she wouldn't stay not talking to him forever but he couldn't help it that that worry crossed his mind on more than one occasion. The thought of having Snow angry at him was agonizing and the pain only deepened as the minutes ticked into hours and into days. But now, he was faced with the chance of putting everything back into place, of re-aligning the stars, and hopefully, if all went well everything would go back to normal. Or whatever normal was for them. The definition of normality didn't really apply to the situation they were in at present.

Snow crossed the bedroom, her back to her husband. She stopped at her dresser, picking up a frame that contained a rare image of herself and Emma. It was taken at her welcome home party after being acquitted of murder and since Emma was not exactly the photo-friendly type, it was taken on the sly. Snow had her arm draped over the blonde's shoulder and Emma was smiling at something Henry was doing. With a quick signal, Red took the opportunity and snapped the scene. She traced her finger along the edge of it, drinking in the happy expressions.

"So…" James started, glued to his spot, "we should talk."

Snow put the frame down and turned around to face him, her hands behind her resting on the dresser. "Yeah," she replied with a smile, though James could see the sparkle of tears in her eyes.

"Snow…"

"James, I know." Pushing herself away from the dresser, she walked purposefully over to him and pulled the curtain across in an act of privacy. "I know you're sorry."

"Truly, deeply sorry," he reiterated, aching to caress her cheek with his hand yet deciding against the action.

Snow bit her bottom lip. "I know," she repeated. "I'm sorry, too."

"Snow you have nothing to be sorry about, it was all me." He couldn't have his wife feeling guilty over something that he was to blame. He was the one to suggest it, and he was the one that made it worse when he tried to make it better. It was all him.

"No, Charming, it wasn't." Despite himself, James' heart lifted. He loved it when she called him 'Charming' and now she had said it twice in the space of a couple of minutes. Things were looking up. "I wasn't being fair to you; I overreacted."

He laughed once. "I don't think protecting your daughter is overreacting. You're a mother and it's your natural instinct to defend your daughter. _I _was the one that was ignoring my fatherly instinct; I let being King take over the feelings of my family and of myself and I was trying so hard to do what I thought was best for everyone that I became obstinate and…heartless. I should have been so much more considerate of your feelings and for that I can never apologise enough." A tear escaped his eye and trailed down the side of his face, stopping at his mouth.

Snow grabbed his hand and kissed it. "Oh, Charming, you were just doing your job and I didn't help. I practically made you choose between being a father and being King, and that was not fair. I know how difficult it was for you to even speak to me about it and all I did was make your life more complicated than it already was. I only added to your stress."

Eagerly, James stole a kiss on her lips. That seemed to startle her. "Snow, there was never a choice. I think I was just being irrational because I was stubborn and plagued by pride, but believe me when I say that no matter what the circumstances, I will always be a husband and father and grandfather first and a King second. Always."

Snow beamed at her husband's humility…and his kiss. _That_ she missed. Just one kiss was enough to send her heart into a tizzy. "I know, love. "

"And I would never put our daughter in danger."

Snow broke away and sat on her bed. "I heard you talking to Emma last night," she admitted with a sigh, "so I know James; deep down under my frustration I knew that you'd never knowingly do anything like that so you do not need to pitch your defence. I forgive you."

James peered at the brunette with mischievous eyes. "You heard?"

"What can I say, I'm a curious soul."

"Snow White, you cheeky eavesdropper," James chortled. "And here I was trying to find the words I would need to fix it all, when you already had heard everything I was going to say." His tone was incredulous, but secretly he had hoped that Snow was listening in; then she would know where his feelings and heart lay. And as luck – if that was the word – would have it, that was exactly what she was doing.

"I wasn't eavesdropping, per se; I was merely…" she trailed off, at a loss for words.

"Merely what? Merely being nosey?" James pushed as his grin grew wider. "Oh, Snow you usually have such good excuses. Alas, it would seem that your words have failed you!" He leapt onto the bed, causing Snow to fall backwards.

"Okay, okay I admit it," she giggled as she sat upright again. "But I still had to hear it from you…and not just through a curtain."

Her husband stood up from the bed and bowed to her. "My sincerest apology, dearest wife." Forever the actor. Though he was being theatrical, Snow could hear that he meant what he said.

"I'm sorry, too, Charming."

He leant down and pushed her hair behind her ear. He used to do that back when she had long hair but he was pleased to learn that he still could even with her shorter style, which in his eyes, served to accentuate her stunning facial features. "Can I ask you something?" he asked.

"Of course." She took his hand and kept it locked to her cheek. "Anything."

He took a deep breath, getting down on his knees so he could be on eye-level with her. "I understood your anger, of course I did, but I couldn't help but feel like your anger was stemming from somewhere else. That it was more than just my being foolish and selfish. I just want to know if…if it was from something else that I have done?"

Snow had to break his stare. She didn't want to cause him any more pain than what he clearly was going through at this point. Yet, she needed to be honest with him…and with herself.

"Maybe," she finally answered after a number of long mute seconds. James remained still, patient, gazing at her with intense, longing eyes. She returned the gaze. "It's so…disconcerting having memories from two lives. I remember all of our life together and our struggle to be together in a world that seemed to be against our union; but I also remember the life that we had here…in the real world."

James nodded in understanding. "Me, too."

"And the memories I have as Mary Margaret seem stronger and more tangible. I still _feel _everything despite the influx of memories of old."

"So you still feel betrayed over the fact that I didn't believe you about Abigail, or Kathryn's, murder." He wasn't asking because he knew that was exactly what she was talking about. His actions as David were still a part of him, and he couldn't excuse them as something totally separate because they weren't. He didn't believe her and was blind to the truth because the evidence was pointing in the opposite direction. He regretted that confrontation he had with her every single day, especially when he remembered who she, and indeed, he was.

"Yes. I know, I'm a horrible person for holding this grudge and this hurt but I can't help it. You weren't my Charming but to have you look at me the way you did and have you accuse me of something that was wholly out of character for me was absolutely heart-breaking. And then to learn that you wanted to use our daughter to gain the upper hand in battle was too much to bear. I guess my worlds collided and combined and created this mixture of anger and anguish and betrayal. But I am so so sorry for it; you did not deserve it."

"So your reaction was a projection of all the pain I caused you. In both worlds." Snow's heart broke as James let the tears roam freely. He sounded so sorry and so defeated. She couldn't stand to see her strong, courageous husband so weak.

"Yes, but honey you have to know that it's all okay now. I forgive you completely. You have nothing to worry about. All that matters is that we're together; we're safe and so are our daughter and grandson. All that matters is that I love you. I have always loved you and I will always love you."

James held her face in his hands and kissed her tears tenderly, finishing with a passionate one on her lips. "I thought I was supposed to be the charming one in this relationship?" he whispered in her ear.

"Well I have learned a trick or two from the master," Snow teased, kissing him again.

"You learned well," he remarked heavily.

In a quick second he reached down and tickled his wife in a sneak attack. "No, Charming, stop!" Snow squealed in glee. Charming did know her weaknesses well.

"Stop what?" he questioned innocently, tickling her again. They both fell onto the bed with laughter. James couldn't think back to a time of late where they could just laugh and be themselves, just be in love but now as he laid on his bed with his wife, he knew it was all going to be okay. That the two people that were destined to be together had defeated the odds and were actually together. _And_ they had a family.

"Snow," he said, and she turned on her side to view him. "I love you, too."

She leaned over and enclosed him in a desirous embrace, breathing in his love.

"Henry!" Emma hissed. "Get away from the curtain!" When Snow and James pulled back the curtain, Henry was quick to position himself against it so he could hear their exchange. Nosey just like his mother and grandmother; always eager to get information, Emma commented in her head.

"But, Emma!" he whined.

"Don't 'but Emma' me; get over here." _Wow, that sounded just like something a mother would say._

"Fine," Henry grumbled, trudging back to her. "They made up anyway."

Emma smiled. "Of course they did. They're Snow White and Prince Charming."

"I guess," he shrugged. "I wonder what they're doing now," he wondered aloud.

"Probably nothing," Emma was quick to say, trying to shake off anything that came to mind. Not something she ever wanted to think about.

As if on cue, the curtain drew back and revealed a disarmingly happy couple. They held hands and had grins as wide as the Cheshire Cat. Emma pretended not to notice and continued to scan the newspaper in front of her. She couldn't let them know that she cared about whether they made up or not; that wasn't really her style. Although she had to admit, her style was fading fast with this whole having loving parents business.

"So you guys made up?" she asked, stealing a peek at them.

"Yes, we did princess," James responded, taking Henry up in his arms and stalking over to kiss his daughter on her head.

"Please stop calling me that!" Emma begged, throwing down the paper.

Snow bounded over and kissed her too, leaving a hand on her shoulder. "Never…princess."

Emma groaned. "Great, something else to get used to."

Snow wrapped her arms around her even though she tried to pull away and sighed in content.

"What do you guys want to do today?" Henry inquired as his grandfather put him back down and ruffled his hair.

"I don't know; whatever you want. Why don't we all see how Granny's is fairing after the storm?"

"Cool!" the boy exclaimed.

Emma took a long look at her family. _Her _family. It was all so surreal but so…right. "Alright, let's go," she said with enthusiasm.

**So I will be continuing this as long as everyone wants me to, I've just got to figure out where to take it! It will most likely consist of Charming family fluff! Suggestions are very welcome ;)**

**I know the Snow/Charming scene was probably a bit too lovey-dovey but I thought that was how it had to be. And I am aware that it took up most of the chapter but I think it needed it! I actually had a bit of a block when writing this; I hope it doesn't shine through. If it wasn't to your taste please let me know. Anyway please, please review and I hope you enjoyed it!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Thank you all sooo much for the reviews and suggestions! I promise that I'll try my best to incorporate them as much as possible into the nest few chapters There will be a slight stray from canon here but I presume you will know it when you see it… Anyway, hope you enjoy!**

"Actually, Emma, why don't we let the boys go out and check Granny's and we stay in and have a hot chocolate?" Snow said, tugging on her daughter's arm as she broke away from her.

"You want to stay in?" Emma asked, not really sure what her mother was getting at.

"We don't have to if you don't want to. I just thought it might be…fun." Snow looked at her with expectant eyes, glancing quickly to James who stood there smiling at her.

"Yeah, Emma you should," he added, making her twirl around to face him. "Besides, I think Henry and I could do with some, you know, man time." He pumped the air with his fist as he finished. It was such an odd gesture that Emma couldn't help but laugh at him. She figured he was trying to sell the idea to her son who, by the looks of it, was already on board. "What do you say, Henry? You wanna hang-out with your grandpa and leave these two with some alone time?" James gave the boy a sneaky wink.

Alone time? With the utterance of those two words it all became clear to Emma. Snow's change of heart about venturing outdoors wasn't because of her borderline obsession with hot chocolate, but because of her desire to spend some time with her daughter. That made perfect sense.

"Yeah, sure!" Henry replied with excitement. It was obvious that the prospect of hanging out with his very young grandfather was something he found completely compelling. Emma had to admit that it was nice for Henry to have a male role model in his life; someone who upheld moral values and who, in all actuality, was a hero of sorts. Like Batman…but without the dark suit, cool gadgets and menacing voice.

"Then it's sorted. You two are going to stay here and Henry and I are going to head into town."

Emma picked up Henry's scarf off the table and ambled over to him to throw it around his neck. "You make sure to be good for your grandpa, okay?"

"I will," he answered happily. "Come on, grandpa!" He ran to the door and yanked it open. Not willing to make his grandson wait any longer, James beamed at his two girls and jogged to meet him. "Let's go, buddy!" Emma heard him say as the door slammed shut.

"They both sound as excited as each other," Emma noted as she spun around to her mother who was already concocting her special hot chocolate. _She doesn't waste any time. _

* * *

James and Henry strolled, hands in pockets, down the street toward Granny's. Henry shuffled from side to side, his angled elbows swinging his body. For every step James took, Henry was taking two and with some proud affection James found himself watching every step the kid took. The dense grey air weighed down on him and his breath formulated in front of his face as he walked, yet he couldn't wipe the smile off his face.

He was a _grandfather_.

Finding out his daughter was a heck of a lot older than when he last saw her was taking time to adjust to, but he thought he was getting the hang of it – sort of, and then to realise that his daughter now had a son was…crazy. But so amazing. Henry was the smartest child James had ever encountered and in that moment when his realisation hit home that Henry was his grandson, James' heart swelled with love and joy. In fact, he reckoned that his family situation was just perfect. And if he succumbed to the truth, having Henry around now kind of gave him a second chance at being, well, a father. Of course, he was Emma's father and that knowledge alone brought him unspeakable happiness, but she was all grown up now and he was never able to be the parent he wanted to be to her. He never got to be the father that helped his daughter grow up and deal with life.

But he could be that figure for Henry.

Emma was his mother and in no way would James ever supersede that role but as a grandfather, he could be that person that Henry would turn to for advice. And James cherished the thought.

"What are you thinking about?" Henry asked suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence. He craned his neck as he moved to see him.

"I was thinking that I'm a lucky guy," James replied as the cold air travelled down into his lungs.

"Because you found grandma and my mom?"

"Yeah, that. And because I found you." He kept his view planted toward the horizon but he curled his lips into a sly smile.

"Me?" Henry enthused, his eyes fully alight.

"Of course. I need another man around to help me with those two." He motioned his head to behind him from where they came.

The boy seemed to enjoy the idea of teaming up with his grandfather against the girls. James suspected that having a man in his life made him just as happy as he was about having a grandson in his.

"Oh yeah, definitely. We can't have them thinking that they have power over us," Henry said, quickening his pace subconsciously to match James'.

"Most certainly not. Us Charming men must stick together." Excitement was emanating from Henry like radiation and that only served to heighten James' already elated state. He patted him on the back as if it was some kind of untold changing of the guard gesture. In anyway, Henry straightened his back as if been magically trusted with a new found authority. Then again that could actually happen in this world.

"So…I'm a Charming?" he quizzed, scrunching his face in anticipation for the answer.

James stopped in his tracks and grasped his grandson's shoulders with firm hands as he knelt down on one knee. "Oh, Henry. You're not just any Charming. You're _Prince _Charming." On the inside James was smiling brightly, but on the outside his face was a mask of pure nobility that loaded his words with a deeper importance.

"I'm…_Prince _Charming?"

"Oh, yes; I'm the King and you are the Prince. And, you have to remember that the Charming name comes with an even greater sense of authority. You, Henry, are royalty. Don't you forget that." James concluded with a wink and Henry flashed him a winning smile. "Now, being the Prince and the King, we must go to Granny's and assess how they are managing after the storm; are you ready to perform your duty?"

"Absolutely!"

"Good," he replied, standing upright again and continuing what was left of the short journey to Granny's with the Prince in tow.

* * *

Back at home, Emma and Snow were sitting at the table, slurping the remaining hot liquid in their mugs. So far, it had been a really pleasant experience, Emma had noted. It almost felt as though they were transported back to the times when they had sat there just as Mary Margaret and Emma, not Snow White and…Princess Emma. Back to when they were just friends and the whole idea of a curse was ridiculous. Simpler times, but not better ones. Now was definitely better.

The conversation had been relatively light with Snow trying her best not to delve deep into the melodrama that was their life. The whole 'finding your baby who's now an adult' story had been a bit overplayed as of late. It was unavoidable of course but just to sit and spend time with Emma was something that Snow was more than happy to do.

"Henry seemed happy to be spending time with James," Emma said, nibbling the side of a chocolate covered biscuit. "I think being related to the King definitely has its perks."

Snow nodded her head to the side. "I…I think it's more to do with Henry having a man in his life," she discerned quickly, snatching a biscuit and taking a chunk out of it. Like she told her husband, Snow was a curious soul and she had to admit, the mystery surrounding the identity of Henry's father was something that kept niggling in the back of her mind. She knew Emma was quite reserved when it came to, well, anything about her past, but as her mother, Snow felt a certain deal of entitlement to know _something_.

"What do you mean?" Emma's attempt to play it cool came off flatly. She guessed what her mother was up to.

"I mean, Henry's never really had, you know, a man in his life so having James around must be new and exciting for him," Snow remarked relatively flustered. It would seem that Mary Margaret was creeping more and more into her personality; Snow couldn't really remember a time as herself where she was uncomfortable saying anything to anyone really, but Emma wasn't just anyone. Emma was reticent and protective of herself and Snow had to remain aware and respect that.

"He has Archie." She flung the remainder of the biscuit onto the table.

Snow exhaled steadily. "Yes, but that's not the same and you know it. He's never had a father figure. Someone to look up to."

"Well he has James now." Hoping that that was the end of the conversation, Emma moved to get off the chair only to be stopped by a firm hand on her arm.

"Emma, please." Her mother's eyes were beseeching yet fixed, soft but cold at the same time.

Grudgingly, she slowed herself down onto the seat, her body tense as if ready to dart if things got a little too close for comfort. She didn't breathe a sound, allowing her mother full reign. Well, as much reign as Emma thought suitable. A conversation like this was to be expected at some point and Emma had anticipated it somewhat, yet she didn't want to get into it…now. Or ever. Never was good option, too.

"Can't you tell me anything about Henry's father?" Snow pressed gingerly, her hand gently tracing patterns on the wood.

"Not much to tell."

"There has to be something. Were you…in love with him?" The hesitancy in the brunette's voice was palpable and that off-set Emma by a great deal. The question was so…straight to the point, so direct. "I don't mean to sound pushy but it's just-" she stopped for a brief second to take a breath, "-I want to know you better, to hear stories from your life before you came to Storybrooke."

Emma came to a realisation that she was fighting a losing battle; Snow was her mother and had shown an interest in her past. She owed her something. Even if it was just something small.

"I thought I was. I thought that when I told him I was pregnant that he'd be happy and we'd all be one big happy family. But I think I was more in love with the idea of love than anything else."

"He didn't want the baby," Snow assumed.

"I don't think when you're eighteen a baby fits into the plan you have for your life at that point." She laughed without humour.

"What happened?"

She let out a sigh that came from the very depths of her soul and toyed with her cup, tilting it back and forth. "He went off to college. As far as he was concerned, the baby and I didn't exist."

"He just took off?"

"Without a word. I learned a couple of months later that he went cross-country, and that was it. That's when I knew that he was gone and that there was no way that I was going to be able to raise the kid by myself. That was when I made the decision to give Henry up. Giving birth in a prison was just icing on the cake."

Her daughter's word packed a punch and Snow found herself fighting back tears at the story. She needed to be strong for Emma; shedding a tear wouldn't help her right now. Snow knew the pain of losing someone she loved and when she looked at it, Emma had essentially lost _two_ people she loved- Henry and his father. In an act of comfort, she wrapped her hand around that of Emma's and squeezed tight and to her delight, Emma squeezed back.

"Has there been anyone since?"

"Not really. It's not that there hasn't been guys, it's just that I decided a long time ago that I wasn't going to let myself get hurt like that again."

"But what about August? Or Graham?"

"I-"

She was interrupted by the sound of faint footsteps outside of the door. Snow used the table to hoist herself up and headed for the door. Before she had a chance to touch the handle, the door flung open to expose James and Henry laughing heartily.

"Hello, love," James greeted, kissing his wife on the cheek.

"Hey, how was Granny's?" Emma asked, trailing over to them.

"Good. Red seems to have the restoration under control down there. But listen, I had an idea," he conspired and Henry gave a toothy grin. "We should have a party!"

"A party?"

"Well, I was thinking that since the curse was broken, we haven't had time to spend with our old friends. We've all been so worried about circumstances that we haven't really thought about just having a good time; what do you think?"

Snow mulled that over. He was right; they hadn't all spent time together just to catch-up and enjoy themselves, and since nothing _had _happened now was as perfect time as any. "I think a party is a great idea," she decided.

"Great!" James exclaimed. "Myself and Henry shall alert the people."

"Not right now; dinner first," Snow chastised with a smirk.

"Fine," both guys grumbled at the same time.

All Emma could do was laugh at how alike they were.

**So yes, I've decided to keep Graham alive for…well…just look at him ;) Plus, then I may be able to work something in about Emma's love life! Oh, and I didn't give Henry's father a name because I didn't know what to use and I like the idea of it still being a mystery ;) Please, please, please review and let me know what you think, especially about the Snow/Emma part! Thanks, again, and I hoped you enjoyed! **


	9. Chapter 9

**Hey guys, thank you all for your kind words and follows! If you have any suggestions don't be afraid to let me know and I will consider all of them and try to fit in as many as I think will fit into the storyline! So this is the start of the party and please read and enjoy! **

From behind the curtain in Snow's bedroom, Emma spied the arrivals to the 'party', or whatever her parents were calling it. And since the clock struck eight, the rapping on the door had been coming thick and fast and the rumble of chatter became louder and louder. It's not that Emma was opposed to the soiree taking place in the other room, it was just that she had this, perhaps childish, notion that everybody she knew would treat her differently. Treat her like the saviour. Or like a…princess. Neither of those sounded enticing. Her father had reiterated that nobody would treat her in any peculiar way. He probably spread the message around to all those who received an invite and warned them beforehand. Emma could only imagine what he said. She knew she was being silly but she couldn't shake the air of gratitude that weighed her down since she broke the curse.

Another knock came from the door and Emma manoeuvred her neck candidly so as to see who was already present. There was Red, Granny, Grumpy, Jiminy, Gepetto, Ella, Thomas, Abigail and Frederick - whom Emma thought were an odd guest choice considering the history between James and Abigail but as it turned out it appeared water under the bridge for James…not too sure about Snow, though, the Blue Fairy, Nova, and Hansel and Gretel for Henry. When all packed into one area it suddenly became very claustrophobic. Everyone was everywhere, all talking and laughing and eating and all round enjoying themselves, taking trips down memory lane. It was quite surreal to have all of these classic characters in the room as one another, now knowing who they all were and it was at that moment that it hit home for Emma what she had actually done. If it were not for her, all of those people would have remained trapped, stuck in the same dreary oblivious existence from day to day. She had, though unintentionally, had set them free.

* * *

Another knock came from the door. "Emma, can you get that?" Snow's voice called from the kitchen. Emma noticed that her mother looked more frazzled than usual, with her short hair flicking out in all directions and her mouth puckered in intense concentration. Best not argue with that.

Emma slid from behind the curtain, ambled over to the door and opened it in a quick manner, her welcoming face plastered on. Yet her eyes widened in shock once she saw who was standing on the opposite side.

August and Graham. Graham and August. Together. Both holding what looked to be some form of pie and both sizing each other up. Emma gulped.

"Hi, Emma," Graham said, guarded, shifting away from August as much as the small space would allow him to. "I brought you a banana cream pie. I thought I'd stay away from apples since well, you know…" He closed his eyes and sighed as he jutted out his hands that held the dessert toward Emma. "Here," he mumbled, scratching the back of his head.

Emma took the food and eyed both men warily. Much to Graham's disgust and possible embarrassment, August scoffed and chuckled at him. "A banana cream pie, really? What are you, some kind of bored housewife?" He flashed him a mischievous smirk. Without taking his eyes off him, August thrust his dessert at Emma who struggled handling them both. "Here. I brought you a Brazilian Coconut Pie with Tropical Fruits," he sang confidently.

"A Brazilian Coconut Pie with Tropical Fruits? _Really?_"

"That's right; I learned the recipe from my time in Brazil when I was eighteen. It's delicious."

Emma rolled her eyes as both men engaged in a staring contest. "Guys…"

"But you wouldn't know anything about Brazil now, would you, Graham? I mean, there wasn't much room to spread your knowledge outside of Storybrooke, was there?"

"You're really using the curse against me?" Graham asked incredulously.

"Nope. Just stating the obvious." August crossed his arms across his chest and moved his weight onto his right leg.

Graham inched closer to him. "Well at least I was _always_ a _real _boy."

August's nostrils flared but before he had the chance to retort, Emma spoke up. "Guys!" she yelled, "Please come in, grab a drink, eat some food, mingle…with others!" She moved out of the way and grandly gestured for them to enter. With some exaggerative reluctance, both did. "Enjoy the pie, Emma," August whispered to her before crossing to the other side of the room where Henry was chatting animatedly to Hansel, Gretel, Jiminy and Gepetto. Graham, on the other hand, gave her a nod and headed toward Ella and Thomas who were admiring the décor, so it would seem. Either way they were happy to make conversation with him.

But one thing Emma couldn't figure out was who invited both Graham and August to the get-together. She sure didn't; not because she didn't want them there or enjoy their company, but because she knew how they acted around one another. Like gladiators in a ring engaged in a fight for the death. Each man seemed to breathe deeper and tensed their shoulders as if preparing to exchange punches at the mere sight of one another, and Emma didn't know what to do to change that. She had never had two grown men sort of fighting over her- if that was what they were doing. It was kind of hard to know since she and Graham had only kissed that one time when he told her he needed to feel something, and she and August had never locked lips _but _had spent a lot of time together. So, she really didn't have a clue how to deal with it, however, now was most definitely not the time for it and the last thing she needed was them two causing friction.

* * *

With the two pies still in her hands, Emma made her way over the kitchen counter only to be stopped by a much-cheerier-than-usual Grumpy who was holding hands with…Nova, was it? She really had to brush up on her stories and read more from Henry's book if she was ever going to recognise and address people by their proper names and titles. "Hey, sister, the lady and I wanted to personally thank you for breaking the curse and reuniting two lost souls," he drawled in his usual gravelly voice, "we sure appreciate it."

_Grumpy and Nova?_ Emma didn't realise they were a couple. Yep, the book had to be read. Pronto.

"It was nothing really," Emma shrugged with a smile.

"Oh, but it was everything," Nova interjected rather fancifully. "Thanks to you, I've got my Dreamy back." They leaned in to eskimo kiss one another.

_Dreamy? _

"It was no problem. Really. Trust me."

"Oh, and, sister, my brothers were sorry they couldn't make it today; Sneezy gave everyone the flu. As usual. They send their thanks."

"I hope they get better soon," she replied. "If you'll excuse me, I've got to get these pies to Snow."

They made a weird bow gesture to her and Emma could only nod back. She guessed it was something to do with her being the daughter of the King and Queen but to be honest, that thought rarely entered her mind. A bow seemed a little superfluous though. Not to mention unnecessary.

* * *

In what felt like ages, she finally was able to place the pies down onto the kitchen counter. "Two more pies," she announced to Snow who was way more hot and bothered than she was earlier. Being hostess probably wasn't her thing.

"What kind of pies?" Snow opened the oven, gave whatever was in there the once-over, and closed it again, never once meeting Emma's eyes.

"One banana cream and one Brazilian coconut." She pointed to each one individually.

"Brazilian coconut? How exotic," Snow observed, wiping down the counter. _The woman just doesn't stop._

"I know. August brought it."

"Oh, well that makes sense. Do me a favour and look over at your father; is he still talking to…her?"

The blonde searched the room and saw James conversing lightly with Abigail by the bookshelf, all smiles. "I take it you mean, Abigail?"

"Maybe."

"Then yes, he is."

"Oh."

"What does that mean?"

"Nothing." The counter was getting a mean clean now.

"You're upset because he's talking to the woman he was sort of married to?"

"No, of course not. Don't be silly."

"Yes, you are. Why don't you just tell him how you feel?"

She sighed. "Because then I'd look like some crazy, jealous person." Never mind getting a mean clean, the counter was being assaulted.

"But you are. Jealous, that is. Not crazy," Emma pointed out.

"Just leave it, okay."

Emma put her two hands on the counter and stared at the brunette. Time for a subject change. "Do you have any idea why both August and Graham are here?"

For once Snow stopped what she was doing long enough to make eye-contact. "Of course. I invited them," she stated unabashedly.

"_You _invited them? You know what they're like. Why would you do that?"

Snow bit her bottom lip, looking like a child who was awaiting punishment. "Because I was thinking about what we were talking about the other day. About love and finding it and I thought that maybe you'd want one of them here and since I didn't know which one, I thought why not invite both?" In what looked like an attempt to break away from Emma's glare, Snow poured more water into the kettle.

Emma couldn't believe what she was hearing. "That wasn't your decision to make and that wasn't your place, Snow." Her mother spun around at her tone. "What I do with my personal life is up to me and frankly, I don't appreciate you meddling in it. This is not some game show where I pick an eventual winner; I specifically told you that it's hard for me to put myself out there and if and when I decide to do that, it will be because I want to, not because my mother felt it imperative to play fairy-godmother. You weren't there when I was growing up and dealing with boys and love so don't think for a second you have any authority to do so now."

"Emma, I'm…I'm sorry," Snow whispered emotionally as her daughter's words cut through her like a knife.

"Yeah, well, whatever. I have to go mingle." And with that, Emma charged away and into the group of people, leaving a breathless Snow in her wake.

* * *

"Princess Emma!"

Trying to control her breathing and her annoyance at her mother's interfering ways, Emma turned around slowly and with intent. "Oh, hey Ru-Red," she said with considerable relief. She wasn't sure if she was ready for Round Two with Snow. Inside she was kicking herself for what she had unleashed on her and she was aware that a party was no place to air whatever ill-feelings she was privy to. This party was supposed to be a celebration and instead, she had managed to turn it into some kind of emotion-duelling arena. "Oh, and you don't have to call me that; Emma will suffice. Really."

"Are you sure? I mean, technically you are the Princess," Red beamed, all teeth showing. "How about saviour?"

"No, really, Emma is perfect. And we're friends and friends don't have to call each other by their titles so please, just Emma."

"Oh, okay." That seemed to please Red.

"I see you're wearing your…cape?" Red was donning a red ensemble piece that trailed past her knees and had a hood. Emma assumed it was similar to what she sported back in the forest that kept from changing into a wolf. Suddenly, Emma was extremely relieved that she was wearing it; they couldn't exactly have a wolf running around their home could they?

"Yeah," Red replied, taking a piece of fabric in her hands. "It's not quite the same as the one I used to have, so Granny made me a new one, with a little input from me."

"And you need to wear it? Just in case you…turn?"

Red blushed. "Well, yeah. I don't really know how it works here but better safe than sorry, right!"

"Emma!" she heard her son exclaim. She was beginning to grow tired at the sound of her own name.

"Sorry, Red," she excused as her son weaved his way through the multitude to get to her. "What's up, kid?"

"Is it okay if me, Hansel and Gretel go to my room – I mean, your room - to play?"

Emma scratched above her eyebrow and placed the free hand on her hip. "Eh, yeah I guess so. Just be careful, and don't be too loud," she warned.

"We won't, I promise. Come on guys!"

Emma turned on her heel to head back to Red but when she turned she was met with James instead. "Emma, what did you say to your mother?" His face was stern, is arms crossed tightly, his stance seeping authority. Like a bodyguard at a club who asks for I.D.

"Nothing, I just ran my mouth off."

"Well, she's very upset and from what I can gather from her one-worded answers is that she was just trying to help."

"I don't see what the big deal is," Emma retorted, crossing her arms as well.

"The big deal is that everybody here knows Snow as a Queen and as a friend. They know her as a fighter and as a kind soul. Many of these people here have willingly put their lives on the line to help Snow and have the utmost respect for her and you can't just treat her like you would treat anyone else. She is your mother and she is the Queen and you should be considerate of her feelings."

"Me be considerate of her feelings? What about you?"

"Emma, what are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about you chatting and laughing with Abigail over a glass of wine. Did you just think that Snow would be okay with that?"

"Snow knows that there's nothing there to be worried about."

"Yeah, well, you might want to tell her that."

**Okay so I'm ending the chapter there because it was getting a bit too long for my liking, but the next one will pick up where this left off. I do realise that there was a good bit of angst thrown into the mix there, but sure why not! Haha I tried to have Emma interact with a few of the party-goers and I'll try to do more next time. I also thought it could be fun to see August and Graham have a little pie war over Emma! Please, please review and I hope you enjoyed!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Hey guys, thank you so much for your reviews – you guys are awesome! They totally make my day :D I hope you guys are enjoying this story so far and I hope that it isn't becoming a bore! Anywho, I hope you like this next chapter!**

"Emma, I honestly have no idea what you're talking about. I didn't just invite Abigail out of the blue; I asked Snow if it was okay," James conveyed, leaning in so that he could create some kind of private huddle between the two of them. "And she said it was."

James was visibly upset at Emma's revelation; just a few days ago he was grovelling for her forgiveness over Emma, and now he seemed to have put his foot in it again. Perhaps his Charming was being usurped by David's worst attributes. He conceived that upon remembering who they were he found himself out of touch with both his and his wife's feelings. It was natural of course; they hadn't been those versions of themselves for twenty-eight years, and now they were this amalgamation of two entirely different lives where two very different identities and two very different people were advancing on one another, trying to gain the upper hand. His mind was one big incoherent mesh of memories and thoughts.

"Look, sometimes women say things they don't mean. Just because she said she was okay with it doesn't mean she was," Emma explained, laying her hand on the curve of his elbow in a comforting gesture. Men could be clueless – even Prince Charming, but she didn't like to see her father struggling. It was crystal clear that James had no idea that he had done something to cause Snow distress, so there was little holding in pointing fingers and flinging accusations at him.

James acknowledged his daughter's act of comfort tentatively, afraid of scaring her away but he was still at a loss as to what he had done wrong. In his agitation, he ran a hand through his hair and blew air sharply out of his nose. "I still don't understand; Abigail and I never…there was never…anything we had was a fabrication modelled by Regina and even then it was nothing. There has never been anything for Snow to worry about."

Emma checked if the party was still in full swing. In the space of a few seconds she had almost forgotten about the flowing conversation and low swinging music swirling around them, seemingly unaffected by the little family discussion happening in the centre of the room. "Well really you should be telling her that, not me."

"Oh, right."

"But maybe wait until the after the party; if the hosts disappear, there will be eyebrows raised," she advised with a hush.

"I agree, no good can come from it now," he concluded, scratching his tamed stubble on his chin. "Wait – what about you?"

Emma recoiled slightly. "What about me?"

James straightened his posture and raised his head so that he could be looking down on her. As much as she didn't want to admit it, Emma knew that pose. That was his assertive parent stance, which from what she had gathered from Snow, was suspiciously similar to his King stance. The one he used when passing judgement and orders. "I'm not the only one here who has to speak with her."

She was hoping he had forgotten. She closed her eyes and exhaled slowly. "I know, I know. I need to make it right."

"Yes you do but right now you have to play the role of hostess and actually look like you're happy to see everyone."

As soon as the last syllable hung in the air, both Ella and Thomas bounded over to them, drinks in hand and smiles galore. "James, Emma," Thomas acknowledged with a nod to each of them, "This party was a great idea," he continued, slapping James' hand into a solid handshake.

"Glad you both could make it," James responded chirpily. "Where's little Alexandria tonight?" he inquired politely, his hand gestures becoming more grand as he seamlessly assumed his role as King.

"Oh she's home tonight with my fairy godmother," Ella said.

"Ella didn't want to leave her but I told her that a night with a few friends was just what we needed," Thomas added as he put a loving hand on his wife's back and gazed into her eyes affectionately. If there was one thing that Emma found utterly remarkable about her parents and their friends, was the way they all looked at their beloved. It was like they saw nobody else in the room; like everybody else didn't exist. It was just them. And for Emma, who had never really been around people who loved so fiercely and so truly, it was somewhat of a spectacle to be admired. Anybody she had ever known never even displayed a shred of the love that was on show in front of her and indeed around her. And, if she was being true to herself, there existed a part of her deep, deep down in the deepest darkest corners of her soul that wished for somebody to look at her in that way. It would seem that the release of magic and swift flow of true love running through people's veins was making Emma soft, and allowing her to ponder things that previously were…imponderable.

Lost in her daydreams and thought, Emma hadn't paid much attention to the conversation taking place in front of her.

"...and it's all thanks to Emma," she heard Ella note, noticeably bouncing up and down in her excitement to…whatever they were talking about.

"Wh-what?" she stuttered.

In an attempt to reawaken his daughter, James shouldered her gently, and subtly - or as subtly as he could - cleared his throat to mark his presence. Emma snapped back into the real world, stealing a glance at her, seemingly embarrassed, father.

"_Emma_," he accentuated, keeping his smile and his eyes on the guests, "Thomas and Ella were just expressing their thanks to you for breaking the curse."

"Oh…well…you know, you're welcome." She tried to flash one of those 'Charming' smiles but didn't seem to have the proper tools or sparkling teeth to pull it off naturally. Nevertheless, the beauty was in the attempt and the not-so-Charming smile seemed to do the trick as both Ella and Thomas laughed sincerely back.

"We know you are both very busy, so we shall leave you to it," Thomas considered rather royally, nodding to them again and, with a small wave, guided his wife away toward the finger food.

* * *

James, using his daughter's shoulder for leverage, craned his neck and scanned the room in search for his wife but to no avail. Snow wasn't to be found among the crowd. With a groan James dropped his head and pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation and a good amount of guilt. Yet, he didn't exactly know what he felt guilty about, as stupid as that sounded, but he knew he was one of the reasons why his wife had vanished from their party. The other reason being whatever Emma had said to her. Though knowing how hard the blonde was trying to assimilate herself into the fusion of their worlds, he was also keenly aware of the hardship she endured and the protective nature she embodied as person throughout her life and thus was already well acquainted with her tendency to lash out with her tongue. "I have to go and make a toast soon," he said, his voice barely audible over the hum of the chatter.

"I thought you were making it with Snow?"

"I am. I'm going to get her and _you're _going to stay in here and make sure that everybody is enjoying themselves."

"Maybe I should go with you; I need to talk to her, too," she offered as she was not keen on the idea of holding down the fort even if it was for a short time.

"Oh I know you do but somebody has to stay here while I get her. One missing host is already suspicious enough but if all of us go, it won't be long before people start asking questions."

Although she hated to admit it, James was right. It was clear to see that Snow wasn't around and if all three of them made a disappearing act, they wouldn't go down as the most cordial of hosts. "Fine," she surrendered.

* * *

It didn't take James long to discover where Snow was, considering the size of their miniscule home. They would definitely need to get a bigger place soon. As he discreetly pulled back the curtain, the silhouette of his wife became clear. There, in the dark, was Snow sitting on her bed, her features still and contemplative. James inched forward, step by step, his hands outstretched in assurance. He wasn't sure if she'd seen him until she rotated her head so he was in full view. "What is it, James?" she asked. Much to his relief, she didn't sound upset or angry. At all, actually. She sounded curious.

He stood over her, his right hand twisting and turning his wedding band. Within days after they remembered, Snow had put back on his mother's ring and, realizing that James didn't have one, examined her jewellery box finding the ring he had worn in the Enchanted Forest. It would seem that fate or destiny or whatever had played a hand just like it did when Snow realized she had been wearing her ring the whole time she was Mary Margaret. It was conniving on Regina's part, but now it became a symbol of their love and a symbol of how good would always prevail over evil.

"We have a toast to make."

She stood up and shot him a whimsical look. "Well then we better get out there."

"But I…I thought you'd want to talk?" he asked, dumbfounded.

"It's okay. We have guests," she replied, slipping out of the room.

* * *

Snow and James took up position at the door and called for attention. Their group of friends fell silent at the sight of the King and Queen, their faces drowned in respect. Emma watched on from the kitchen, leaning her arms on the counter, her fingers interlocked. Out of the corner of her eye she spotted August strutting his way over to Graham, a smug look on his face, his eyes twinkling in the dull light of the room. _This can't be good. _

Emma tried to distract herself by directing all of her attention to her parents who were now thanking everyone for coming and expressing their joy for having many of their close friends back together again. "For years we have wandered the same streets and drank at the same bars, passing by and greeting one another without realizing- even when it was staring us in the face-who we all were. But now the curse has been broken and we can all live as we are again, our minds free from the prison our enemy locked us in. Now we can join together in restoring our lives and move forward in unison towards our happy endings," James boomed, his arm wrapping around Snow's waist.

The guests all cheered and raised their glasses, waiting for the Queen to say the word. Again, Emma's glance shifted ever so slightly toward the two men who now looked to be in a heated whispered argument, with both gesticulating boldly; August looking to be the provoker. Graham, who normally remained calm, was now turning red with chagrin as his hands fixed onto his hips. Emma shuffled over to them.

"It is so good to see you all again – it's been far too long," Snow joked, raising her glass. "So thank you; we love you all. Cheers!"

Cheers erupted again in the room and everybody went around clinking glasses and laughing. The extra enthusiastic atmosphere served only to heighten the tension between Emma's admirers. As the talking diluted once more into a hum, both of their voices raised.

"I don't know what you're talking about," August retorted and Emma gulped. _This is not going to end well. _The venom in that sentence was enough to make people turn and see what was going on. All Emma could do was stand and watch as it escalated into something far bigger than she had anticipated or dreamed of.

"Oh I think you do," Graham laughed once; he the one with the smug expression for a change. "You come here with your Brazilian pies and your stories of foreign lands trying to impress everyone but really you're just trying to make up for what you did." August's eyes widened. "Oh yeah I know all about how you were supposed to protect Emma in this world but instead of living up to your promise, you left her. You _left _her."

"What is going on here?" James stomped his way over to the verbal altercation and placed a hand between them.

"Should I tell him, or should you?"

Emma felt her heart shoot up into her mouth and then plummet down to her stomach. It was like every hair on her body was standing, waiting for the pivotal moment. Shrieking silence fell upon the room.

"Tell me what?" James demanded, patience wearing thin.

August let out a heavy sigh and lifted his arms in surrender. "More than one person could go through the wardrobe."

James lowered his arm and stood in front of the man. "What does that mean?"

August looked behind him to his father who shrugged in defeat and nodded. "It means that my father put me into the wardrobe before Emma was born. _I _was sent into this world first. The wardrobe could hold two."

**Dun dun dun! Haha I wasn't originally going to go down this route but I thought it might add a bit more drama and such. What can I say, a love a bit of drama ;) If you didn't like the idea of bringing the wardrobe up, don't be afraid to let me know! I hope you all enjoyed the chapter and please review and let me know what you think! :)**


	11. Chapter 11

**Hey! Thank you all _so _much! I appreciate all of your reviews and follows; they're really good motivators! Haha I'm so happy to see that you're enjoying this story ;) Hope you enjoy this next chapter!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon a Time.**

All at once, a gasp was heard in every corner of the small space; the shock of what was just said electrifying the room.

James's body shook with fury at August's revelation. In a swift moment, all of the blood drained from his face and stretched to every other part of his body as he clenched his fists so tight that his skin appeared translucent over his bare white knuckles, and his eyes grew dark. Darker than anyone had ever seen. He looked like a predator preying on unsuspecting wildlife; ready to pounce. His breathing became ragged, escaping his mouth in long fierce blows.

For the very first time, Emma found herself wary of her father. He was usually so calm, so collect, so…together. He was a man who was held in high esteem for his bravery and his dignity in the face of adversity. But it would seem that August had chinked his armour. And who could blame him for being so furious? Emma not revealing that particular piece of information was not intentional; so much had happened and she was directing all of her attention to forging a relationship with Snow and James, and the thought to tell them never even crossed her mind but as she listened to what he said, she found a bout of resentment rise up within her.

And then of course was the little matter of Graham. He was the one who sparked this situation _and_ did so at the most inconvenient of times, all because of petty jealousy. A jealously Emma couldn't even comprehend. She wasn't looking for a relationship right now and the way they both acted toward one another only made her more reluctant to explore the possibility.

"I think it's best if you leave," Emma murmured to August, her shoulders hunched.

"Sir, I am so sorry-" he attempted.

"August," she said a little louder now hoping that he'd go without too much hassle.

He turned to give her a nod. "I'm sorry," he repeated remorsefully and made quickly for the exit, all eyes on him.

Emma rubbed her eyes with one hand and stepped closer to Graham who looked as though he had single-handedly destroyed the hopes and dreams of children everywhere. He was so distraught that Emma didn't have to utter a sound; he whispered something along the lines of an apology and made his way out of there as fast as his limbs would allow, shooting Snow a pleading stare as he passed her by. Sometimes it was easy to forget that he was the one that spared Snow's life and thus had this sort of cosmic connection to her, which only further complicated the mess they were already in.

From the two abrupt exits, it was clear to everyone present that this matter was not something that could be waved off and one by one, each person excused themselves respectfully from the now dead party so as to give the family privacy, and to escape any kind of wrath James looked prime to release. Gepetto and the Blue Fairy, unable to string any words together, merely revealed how sorry they were for their indiscretion through their tear-filmed eyes.

* * *

It took all of Snow's might to put on a smile and thank everyone individually for coming. No matter what she tried to do to avoid it, her gaze travelled to the sight of James pacing and gathering his thoughts and Emma standing by completely at a loss at what to do. She wanted nothing more than to tell James that everything was okay but how could she say that when she didn't believe it to be true? August had unleashed a beast that was not going to be easy to tame; his announcement had sucked all of the air out of her lungs and left her scrambling to breathe. A lump formed in her throat, sobs an ever-present threat. But she couldn't cry, not when her family members needed her. She had to be strong even when a mixture of emotions coursed through her veins.

* * *

"Hey, where is everyone?" Henry asked, climbing down the stairs with Hansel and Gretel behind him.

"Oh, eh, the party's over," Emma said lamely.

Snow was quick to clean-up the story. "It was getting late, and they all had to be up early for work in the morning so they all went home." Not very convincing, but it was enough to quench the boy's curiosity for the time being.

"Oh, okay. So who's going to give Hansel and Gretel a lift home?" He was so…innocent and happy; just one look at him made Emma's heart lift despite all that had happened. Luckily for her, Snow was yet again one step ahead.

"James will," she decided, touching her husband's arm in an effort to bring him back to the present. Knowing him the way she did, Snow just knew that he was reliving that fateful day – the day they had to say goodbye to Emma. That's what she would have been doing if she had the chance but she couldn't. Not yet, anyway. And then, as she looked at the blonde, the ache in her chest grew, helped little by the fight they had earlier.

"He will?" Emma asked incredulously, taking in her father's placid figure.

"He will," the brunette confirmed, shaking him by his arm which seemed to do the trick. "Won't you, honey?"

"Oh, yeah, of course," he said without conviction.

"Cool, let's go guys!" The three kids ran out the door, still eager and full of energy by the looks of it. Wordlessly, James followed them, taking his keys off the hook and closing the door with extra malice.

* * *

Emma stood at the edge of Snow's bedroom watching her dance around the kitchen with extreme fluidity as she seemed to be doing a million things at once. She was afraid to approach her after what she said, worried that the woman would rebuke her.

Snow stirred the cookie mix aggressively, her hand throbbing as she clutched the whisk. She preferred to mix things by hand; it allowed her to release any pent-up emotions that perturbed her. Electronics didn't give her that luxury. "Would you like to help?" she asked when Emma came into view.

Emma shoved her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. "I'm not really the baking type."

"Neither was I," Snow shared, pushing a lock of her hair off her face and leaving a streak of flour on her forehead.

"Why did you start?"

"I lived with dwarves who had a sweet tooth." She placed down the whisk and looked up at her. "One night I couldn't sleep and so I looked for something that would take my mind off James and the fact that the Queen had captured him, and I found myself in the kitchen with a load of ingredients. It turns out that baking is a pretty good way to distract your thoughts."

"What'd you make?"

"Oh, nothing!" she waved off, throwing in a truckload of chocolate chips into the mix. "The dwarves hardly kept food in the house. No, I ended up with some vile discoloured cake but the intent was enough for the boys to bring more sweet things into the house for me to experiment with."

Emma chuckled as her mother stuck her tongue out in concentration, stirring thoroughly again.

"I'm glad you can laugh about this."

"About what?"

"I don't know; anything. It hasn't exactly been a smooth night." She tossed the dough mixture into the refrigerator rather carelessly. "Not much to laugh about." Emma wasn't sure if Snow was intentionally acting cold or not. It wasn't something she was used to with the woman she had known as a friend and, more recently, as a mother. But she understood that the revelations of the night were playing heavily on her mind.

"I'm sorry about earlier. About what I said." She took up a towel and assisted Snow in cleaning up the flour that somehow ended up in all parts of the kitchen.

Snow threw down her cloth. "I'm sorry, too, but I was only trying to help, Emma. I know that I overstepped a boundary and you were right; I have missed your entire life and I wasn't around for all those things, but you know why I couldn't be there. You know what happened now and I just…I thought we were getting past it all."

"We are. I don't know where it came from; I'm not used to people taking care of me and doing what's best for me. I overreacted because I'm out of my depth here with all of this. It just takes time," she explained, knowing that the 'it takes time' story was getting old. She needed new material.

"I realise that, of course I do and I'm trying. We both are. We're just trying to make up for all the time we missed." Emma finished cleaning and popped the cloths back onto the counter, neatly folded. Snow's influence and habits clearly rubbing off on her. "Although, now knowing what we know, it would seem that we didn't have to spend all this time apart," she added bitterly. Emma winced; she was waiting for that. "I mean, I understand why Gepetto sent him into this world – we did the same thing for you – but I just can't get over the fact that we were lied to and that I couldn't be there for you here," she continued, sadness overcoming her bitterness. "I was supposed to go with you and protect you. When we sent you away, my heart broke. It was like my world came crumbling down and now learning that I didn't have to go through all that heartache and that you could have grown up with your mother…well, it just _hurts_. It hurts so so much."

Listening to her mother trudge her way through the pain was agonizing. She could see that Snow was torn between understanding and betrayal and in a way that was how she felt as well.

"And then he left you!" she exclaimed, her hands shooting up to cover her face to muffle a scream through her hands. A gut-wrenching, heart-stuttering scream. "Oh, Emma…" She put a hand over her mouth and ran from her and into her bedroom, making sure to draw the curtain in her angst.

Emma swiped at a stray tear. "I guess the baking didn't help after all."

* * *

James kept his eyes fixed firmly on the road as he drove himself and Henry back home from dropping off Hansel and Gretel. In his mirror he could see Henry squirming in the backseat, noticeably confused at his grandpa's continuous silence. He planned on wrestling with his thoughts and, admittedly, his anger on the drive but as soon as he planted his eyes on the boy, he felt guilty for acting the way he did.

"You okay back there, buddy?"

Henry fidgeted with his seatbelt. "I guess so."

"You only guess so? What's going on in that head of yours?"

"Wasn't it a bit early for everybody to go home? Even if they were in work in the morning, it's barely past eleven now." James could practically hear the squeaking of the wheels turning in Henry's head.

"Maybe they were all just tired."

"All of them? No way. There's something going on here."

James sighed as he took a right at the traffic lights. "Henry, what does your book say about Pinocchio?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, how does the story end?" He watched for his grandson's reaction.

"It…it wasn't finished," he answered.

"Oh really," James said petulantly.

"You know if you want to find out, I could ask August," he suggested.

"No!" James yelled, closing his eyes immediately at his stupidity. He could feel the eyes in the back boring into his skull. "I don't want you spending any time with him."

"But I don't understand. He's my friend."

"Please just listen to me, okay? I don't want you near him."

"You can't tell me to stay away from him," Henry protested somewhat agitated.

"Henry," James' voice rose, "I know but it turns out that August hasn't exactly been honest with any of us and has kept something very important to himself so I don't want you hanging around him."

"What happened," the kid demanded. "You liked August before so something must have happened!"

"Henry-"

"Please tell me."

James pulled the car up and unbuckled his seatbelt so as to turn to face him fully. In imitation, Henry released himself, too. He didn't want to tell the boy for fear of upsetting him but the only way to get out of this was by telling him the truth. "It turns out that August was sent here through the wardrobe just like Emma, which means that Gepetto and the Blue Fairy lied to us about the properties of the wardrobe. Emma could have grown up with her mother but because of dishonesty, she was left alone. _Both _of us were separated from her when in truth only one of us had to be." He tried his best to put it all together in a way that made sense, hoping that Henry knew exactly how he felt and why he was so upset.

Henry looked up to the sky in thought, as if working out a difficult math equation. "That's what August told Emma," he said quietly, almost to himself.

"What?"

"August. He said that he was going to make Emma believe and that he knew just how to do it…this must be what he told her."

James leaned his hands on each headrest. "You mean…Emma knew?"

**Hope you all liked what you read! I found this chapter really difficult to write for some reason but I'm hoping that I pulled it off okay. If I didn't, don't be shy and tell me so. Please, please review and let me know what you think! :D**

**Oh, and these next few weeks are gonna be pretty hectic for me but I will try to update as often as I normally do but please bear with me if I take a little longer here or there! I will update eventually because I love writing this story :) **


	12. Chapter 12

**Thanks again guys for your reviews, follows and favourites – it means so much! Anywho, please read and let me know what you think. Hope you enjoy! :)**

The creaking of the door opening startled Emma. She was in the kitchen keeping an eye on Snow's cookie dough, willing herself to finish it off, hoping that it would spur some kind of reaction in Snow other than absolute heartbreak. She never wanted to witness someone break down like that in front of her ever again and she was pretty sure that Snow's scream was etched into her memory for all eternity. There was just something so devastating about seeing somebody who you care about lose themselves in a sea of anguish and you being so helpless to do anything to make it better. It was a long-shot but perhaps cookies were the answer.

Yet, and not surprisingly, Emma learned considerably quickly that baking was not her calling and that it never would be. At least she could rule out 'running a bakery' as one of her career paths. Not that it ever was one.

As soon as the door flung open and Henry bolted into the room and up the stairs without saying a word, the cookies were the last thing on her mind. There was a lot to talk about and a lot to go over and she'd have to tell her parents that she had known that August had gone through the wardrobe, too. It wouldn't be pretty but they had to know.

But as her eyes landed on her father, she felt…uneasy. Like the way a child would feel just before they were scolded by a parent. She hopped from one foot to the other, bowing her head uncomfortably. James was stoic, stone-like. It was like he was looking right through her and for a millisecond, Emma was sure that he couldn't see her. That was, until he spoke.

"How could you not tell us?" Emma heard him say, his voice a monotone, devoid of feeling. His creased forehead and drooped lips painted a picture of a broken man. It was plain to see that the events of the night were taking a toll on her young father and Emma was sure that she alone was adding years to his face. And if she allowed herself a glimpse of the whole picture, it would become obvious that Emma was the one who was creating the most tension in the house and plying on the stress.

She knew what her father was referring to but her inner-child was screaming at her to stop and play it coy. "Tell you what?" She swallowed hard.

James dumped his rain jacket on the sofa and rolled up the sleeves of his chequered shirt to just before the elbow. "Come on, Emma," he said with a humourless chuckle, "I think you know exactly what I'm talking about. There's no point in pretending; you may claim to know when people are lying but where did you think you got that 'superpower'" he made quotation marks with his fingers, "from?"

"I never really thought about it," she admitted slyly, thinking that she could change the course of the conversation. She couldn't quite put her finger on the reason, but something about talking to James always brought out the teenager in her.

"You don't think I know that trick, too?" He ambled over to her, raising his eyebrows over the fact that Emma was standing right next to the oven.

"Cookies," Emma clarified, sensing his bemusement.

"Ah. Snow."

"Yeah she wasn't really in the mood for finishing them so I thought I'd step in."

"You?" The eyebrows shot up again and though he was mocking her lack of baking capability, Emma was happy to see that his anger was not overriding his humour or his ability to lighten the conversation.

"I'm not that bad," she defended weakly.

"Yes, you are," Snow interjected, crossing the room. Emma assumed she had heard her husband's entrance and the exchange of words between father and daughter, which more than likely piqued her interest. "But I appreciate the thought. Now who here is going to tell me what's going on?"

Without wasting any more time, James dived into the story, filling in the details that Emma was unaware of, including how James had come to know about her knowledge of August: Henry. But much to Emma's horror, the newly calm Snow became increasingly more upset as he went on. "You knew about this? About August being sent here?" She brought her hand to her chest and rubbed the area under which her heart lay. James kissed the top of her head trying to yield her distress.

"I…I…forgot." Her voice cracked on the final word.

"You _forgot?_" If Snow wasn't impassioned before, she certainly was now. "How could you forget something so…so…important? Don't you understand? This changes everything!"

"How?" Yep, the teenage irritation had surely crept in.

"Because Emma," James said, keeping his voice level and his emotions in check, "ever since we found you, we've been lamenting over the fact that we weren't able to be with you as you grew up; we believed it impossible but now we've learned that Snow could have been there for you. It's horrible to think that we never had a chance, but to know now that we did is just beyond intolerable." He rubbed his wife's shoulders as if a chill had struck her and he was trying to heat her up.

Emma's breath hitched but she couldn't come up any words in response. All she could do was watch her parents suffer with the pain of learning that they had been lied to and that that lie had forced them to separate with their child for almost three decades. Emma couldn't imagine being separated from Henry for that amount of time; she had just got to know him and was never going to let anything get in the way of her being with her son. The thought of losing him was enough to send spasms of pain through her entire body.

"I just can't believe that this happened," Snow whispered through her tears.

"I'm sorry for not telling you," Emma said sadly, understanding that her withholding information, albeit unintentional, was a terrible mistake.

"It's okay," James assured, keeping his hands around Snow, "none of this is your fault."

"What I don't understand," Snow spoke again, "is what Gepetto thought of achieving by sending Pinocchio here. Obviously he wanted to protect him but he knew that Emma was the saviour, that she needed me to guide her. It just doesn't make any sense."

Emma bit her lip. August was already in deep enough trouble with her parents without her adding to his woes but she couldn't just stand by and say nothing – that's what got her in this position in the first place. It was like her mind was playing table tennis with one thought battling with the other.

Snow –always perceptive- registered Emma's muteness. "What is it?"

"What?"

She raised her head. "What is it you're hiding from us? Out with it."

Emma flung her head back and closed her eyes. "August was sent here to protect me."

James narrowed his eyes. "Protect you?"

"Gepetto made August promise to take care of me when I came through; he knew that I needed to be looked after. But-"

"But he didn't," James stated through clenched teeth. "He didn't uphold his promise."

As much as Emma understood his, now seething, irritation, she felt the need to defend August to James, despite not owing him anything. "He was just a kid," she reasoned, "it was a lot of responsibility for a boy to handle. I was just a baby and he-"

James' nostrils flared, his cheeks puffed. "That's just my point; you were just a baby. A _baby_! And _he,_" he sneered, "left you to fend for yourself! He's the reason you had to go through all that hardship in your life, Emma! He's the reason you've been all alone your whole life, completely unaware of where you came from and of your lineage. Completely unaware of how much you were loved and how much you were wanted!" He gasped for air when he finished, his face steaming red. Snow let him vent, allowing him to get all the frustration off his chest. Even if she wanted to there was no way to calm him down; to stop him while he was ranting was like taunting a bull.

Tears stung the back of Emma's eyes as she watched her father rip the words out of his throat and his body writhe in sorrow. Her heart thumped as she watched the tears spring out of her mother's eyes. It was all too much. Everything James had mentioned was true; if August hadn't left her then she would know about her parents and all about the sacrifice they had made to save her. She might have been able to call them 'Mom' and 'Dad'. She might have built a solid relationship with them from the outset because she wouldn't have had walls up. Everything could have been so different and she couldn't stop her imagination from running wild. Before she even knew it, sobs erupted from her chest and her mother was the one comforting her.

"Emma," Snow hushed but Emma pulled away and sprinted up the stairs to her room just to get away from it all.

* * *

"Emma, are you okay? What's wrong? I heard yelling," Henry asked, his eyes an ocean of worry as he took in his mother's tear-stained cheeks and dishevelled blonde curls. He pushed himself off the bed and embraced her tightly. He hated it when she cried. She was always so strong and defiant; to see her crumble made his heart hurt.

"It's nothing," she replied, hugging him back.

"It's about August isn't it? I'm sorry; I shouldn't have told grandpa." Now Henry was getting upset and inside Emma kicked herself. Here she was, a mother, causing her son more harm than good.

"No, no Henry," she got down to his level, pushing hair off his face, "it's not your fault. I should have told him a long time ago and it's just…it's a lot to take in."

"I didn't mean to tell him; something just slipped out and I couldn't take it back. He made me tell him."

"You did the right thing, kid. Just like you always do." She got up and threw herself down on the bed. "It's me who should be setting the example for you, but there you are – again – beating me to it." She used her elbows to hold her body up so she could see him fully. "I'm proud of you, Henry. I'm proud of you for always doing the right thing…even if at the time I don't see it for what it is."

Henry smiled a little bemusedly. "Are you feeling okay?" It was beyond unusual for Emma to say things like that. In fact, it was practically unheard of.

Emma laughed at her son's expression. "Yeah," she said, wiping the tear residue off her face, "I'm just so happy that you found me and brought me here, that's all. I love you, kid."

The boy propped himself next to her and bumped her arm with his shoulder. "I love you, too, mom."

Mom. She never tired of hearing that. It's funny; she never saw herself as the maternal type; she never saw herself as a 'mom'. But now, that was how she defined herself – being a mom to Henry was her first priority. He was the person whom she would do anything for.

As she sat there with one arm draped around her kid, her mind wandered to what it would feel like if something or someone had got in the way of her getting to be in Henry's life. Yes, she gave him up and had to deal with Regina, but she gave a lot of thought to what Snow and James were going through right at that moment. She was witness to the suffering they went through, fresh as if it all had happened again and she couldn't take it. James was so…distraught; so much so that Snow was at a loss at what to do. And then there was Snow trying her best not to break down, looking like every ounce of strength she had was being used to rein in her emotion, with little cracks appearing here and there.

Emma had never given much thought to the repercussions of what August did and how they would affect her family but it was crystal clear to see that it was something that only time could heal.

She wondered how Snow and James were dealing with it now. It had become eerily quiet downstairs and Emma wasn't ready to brave the storm just yet. Her parents probably had a lot of talking and healing to do.

**I planned on fitting in the Snow and James part but I thought that I should leave it here and start the next chapter with it, especially since I have to work out how that's going to go! Haha I hope you all enjoyed it even if it was drenched in angst – I'm sure that as soon as this matter is resolved, fluff will slowly and surely creep its way back in! I actually don't think this is some of my best work but I hope it's enough to keep you all interested. Please, please review and share your thoughts! :)**


	13. Chapter 13

**Wow, I reached over 100 reviews! That was like the best feeling ever! Haha Thank you all so much for your kind words! Here's the next chapter and I hope it doesn't disappoint! (If it does, don't be afraid to say so :P)**

Snow collapsed on her bed, the trauma of the day taking its toll on her physically. She wasn't sure, but it felt as though she had shed every tear in her ducts and all that remained was thick red-rimmed eyes. Her heart thumped heavily in her chest as if it too was worn out. Yes, she felt betrayed and felt a throbbing more erratic than she thought was possible, but there was still something niggling in the back of her mind that made her feel…torn. Conflicted.

The conversation with Emma had brought out the heart-wrenchingly vulnerable side to James. He just stood in the corner of their room, aloof and withdrawn. She had made several attempts to console him and there was nothing she wanted more than to talk to him, to ease the pain she knew he felt, to help him deal. He had reacted in a way she had never seen before and it…scared her. It wasn't so much his temper; it was more to do with _how _he conveyed his anger. His words hissed and stung the air, the sneer and venom behind them not only accentuating his grievance but raising his resentment to a whole a new level. It was one thing to express how he felt; it was another to snap at Emma for defending August.

Yes, Snow, too, agreed with her husband on most of what he said, especially about how drastically different Emma's life would have been if Pinocchio hadn't of left her when she was just an infant, but as a mother, she empathised with Gepetto's dilemma and instantly understood why he did what he did. She was sure that any parent would struggle with a decision like that. Even if his doings were deceptive, beneath it all was a good intention: to look after Emma. There was no way he could have foreseen what his son would do when he was sent into this world but he did send him with the intention of having him to take care of her. The curse played on the fears of all members of the kingdom; so there was no reason for her to place blame on Gepetto or accuse him of being selfish. He was a father and Snow was a mother. She couldn't be mad at him for acting like a concerned parent.

And, surely she couldn't blame August, could she? After all, he was just a boy. A seven-year-old boy who was also separated from his family and sent to a strange, new land where everything he had known up until that point no longer existed. He must have been so confused and so lonely.

It would seem that being a mother brought on a whole new perspective to every problem she faced; it shed a new light on dull circumstances, and it was from this that her conflict arose. There was no doubt about it – she was torn. She searched her ceiling as if looking for an answer but nothing came to her. She was trapped in a haze of dust particles and confusion.

* * *

James kept his back to Snow, unwilling to let her gaze deter his fury from completing its course. He could feel it in his bones; every inch of his body shook with the knowledge that they had been betrayed and that his daughter was the one to suffer.

_Deep breaths. _

The bed groaned and he could hear the faint footsteps of his wife coming up behind him. "Snow, I don't want to talk about it," he commanded forcefully, his voice echoing off the wall in front of him, making him sounder much louder than he actually was.

His booming voice rocked Snow back on her heels, but she was determined to have this out. It wasn't as if he could just pretend that nothing had happened. "No, Charming, we need to talk about this."

"Snow-"

She grabbed his shoulder and spun him around to face her. Inside, her heart was crushed at his appearance – red-rimmed eyes, tousled hair, clenched jaw, flexed muscles – but she had to cast that out of her mind. Yes, James was thoroughly upset and that fact alone thundered a great deal of stress but there was no way he could shove her off. Not when it was something this big and significant. "James, I get it, I do. I feel the same way but pouting and plotting revenge is not the way to handle it. And you can't fight this alone; we're in this together so you need to talk to me."

"What do you want me to say?"

There were so many things that Snow could say, yet it was like all of them fell through a trap door in her mind, leaving her floundering for something, anything. "You don't really blame August, do you?" she asked softly, rubbing her left arm.

James' brow furrowed. "Are you kidding me? Of course I do!"

"But he was just a boy."

"He shouldn't have been there in the first place."

Snow wrapped her arms around her husband's strong, square shoulders and pulled him close to her so she could nestle her head in the groove next to his neck. Reluctantly, James folded himself around her, leaning his head on hers. For a few still moments they rocked back and forth, allowing the moment to steady their feelings. Snow broke away only marginally to search his expression. "I know," was all she said, hoping that that would be enough for him to take charge and to have a proper conversation with her.

When he didn't reply in due time, she pulled him close to her again. "It's not fair," she whispered, feeling that ache in her chest that was only exacerbated by James' sorrow. Soothingly, she rubbed his back in circles as he let out quiet, little sobs that were a true testament to the state of his emotions over what had happened. It was no secret that he was furious, but more than that he was devastated. Devastated because his daughter had grown up all alone and devastated that he was clueless to what had actually happened all those years ago. It seemed that the timing was just so wrongly placed; with the curse breaking and the obstacles they had to overcome as a family, such as Emma forgiving them for sending her away, everything threatened to snap back into the way it was prieviously and all progress could have been greatly hindered. Not that Snow or James would ever allow that, but that didn't mean that this revelation wouldn't have some kind of deeper impact.

"No it's not." He moved away and took up a picture frame. The one of Snow and Emma. The one Snow cherished so much. "It's not fair, Snow. I can't…I just can't believe it." He shook his head ever so slightly as if trying to untangle a knot in his mind. His irritation was now disappearing and leaving him looking more defeated than anything else.

"Me neither," Snow agreed from behind him, giving him space. "I never thought something like this was possible."

"One minute you think you have everything worked out and the next, life throws you something you never saw coming. Something big. Something that changes your perspective," James commented solemnly, his grip tightening around the old metal of the frame.

"For better or for worse?"

He inhaled deeply. "I don't know yet."

Snow thought it was time to speak her mind. As much as both of them were hurting, they couldn't dance around it with ambiguous thoughts and answers. They needed to dive in – head first; no point in testing the water any further. "James," she began, closing her eyes as if to conjure up courage or something along those lines, "I know you're upset and you're angry-"

"Yes, I am," he interrupted as he turned around.

"Please let me finish," she requested tenderly with a watery smile. He nodded, his eyes and posture softening. "I know how you feel and trust me, I feel the same way. I'm hurt and angry and upset and I can't wrap my head around it. When I try to and I think about the consequences of the choices we all make I get this this dull ache in my chest and throat becomes raw. I feel like crying until I physically have nothing left inside me and I just want to freeze time again so that I can just…breathe again. Let everything out." James could have crumbled right then and there in front of her but he knew that she wanted him to listen, to hear her out and he steeled himself to let her continue. "But despite it all, I don't think we should be mad at Gepetto or Pinocchio. Who were they to know what was going to happen? We all knew how much Gepetto loved his son and would do anything for him; he's a parent, just like we are. He made a decision and yes, he lied but he was protecting his son just like we were protecting Emma."

James, unable to hold any opinion in, spoke. "But Snow, our situation was much more different and difficult," he rationalized. Rather calmly, Snow took note of. Perhaps something she said struck a chord with him. "Emma wasn't just our child; she was the saviour. The one destined to do great things and rescue a cursed people."

"Yes, but what if you look at it from his point of view? Imagine how he felt creating a wardrobe that could save two people and knowing that his son was not one of the chosen to go through and be safe. I understand _why _he did it and I bet you do, too."

James extended his arm and scratched his back as he took in what his wife was saying. Who's to say that if he was in a similar position that he wouldn't do it? He loved Emma even before he knew it himself and he would do anything in his power to protect her – of course he'd try with all his might to save her. But of course the problem with thinking along that line is that, in this particular situation, his family were the ones that had to suffer because of that decision made. "But, Snow," James pleaded again, feeling like he was being drained of every ounce of energy.

"Charming, in no way do I condone what he did or what Pinocchio did, of course I don't and the pain I feel over what happened because of what they did is almost too much for me to bear. We were deceived and our child was abandoned and nothing irks me more than to know that Emma's life could have been everything she had dreamed of but what's done is done and we can't change the past as much as we want to. As much as we yearn to. We just have to accept what has happened and find a way to move forward." In a fleeting moment she grabbed the collar of her husband's shirt and kissed him on the lips. "I believe that everything happens for a reason and that what comes our way is what is meant to be. I think that this was meant to bring us closer, to glue our family back together again and to make sure that we do not take any moment we have with them for granted. We have to live our lives from day to day with the knowledge that things could have been so different, yet what does it matter when we are all here now? We are all together, that is the only thing that matters."

"Your choice was taken away from you. Your chance to raise our daughter was stolen out of your grasp and yet, somehow, you find the strength to forgive and to move on," James marvelled, lightly touching her cheek. "You are incredible," he breathed, feathering her lips with instances of affection.

"You're not so bad yourself," she remarked quietly in between kisses.

James pulled away to take in the brunette's face. "I don't know if I have the strength to forgive just yet," he revealed truthfully. "As much as I love you for how you deal with things so gracefully, I find that I do not share that same talent."

"That's okay, Charming. No one expects you or I to be acceptant over what has taken place but it is important for us to at least try to accept it. That is all I can ask for myself and that is all I can ask from you."

"I promise I'll try," he smiled.

Snow closed their gap. "And we need to talk to Emma and apologise to her for the way we reacted when we found out that she knew."

He looked at the floor in shame. "She didn't deserve that. Now be honest, how harsh was I?"

"On a scale of 1 to 10?"

"Yeah," he shrugged.

"About an eleven."

"I thought as much."

**I wanted to end that chapter on a little bit of a high note and a turning-point! And I thought I should have Snow as the moral compass, so to speak, in this chapter. I wanted to show how hurt she was but I wanted her to be the one to look at the situation from both sides and show a more empathetic view. If you think that wasn't a good idea, please do tell me! Haha as always I hope you enjoyed and please, please review and let me know what you think!**


	14. Chapter 14

**Hey all! Thank you again for your kind words! I hope you like what you read!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon a Time.**

For whatever reason, Emma found herself to be restless. As she paced back and forth in her room, with Henry taking a nap on the bed, she explored ways in which she could distract her thoughts from her parents and what they were talking about. When she closed her eyes she imagined James to be absolutely livid and for Snow to be nothing but understanding though she too would undoubtedly be emotionally destroyed. She looked it too; it didn't take long for Emma to notice the pain twisted in her features. But if there was one thing that Emma knew, it was that Snow had a kind soul; she was somebody who sympathised with every side and offered her own piece of advice in assistance. That was just who she was.

Yet, James wasn't just anybody, and it would be difficult for Snow to be understanding of the situation they were in when he was venting his frustration, Emma assumed. Sometimes it was like their mind -along with their feelings - were linked by the love they shared. As if it was another way of communicating and another way of professing their deep bond, and that would only make their predicament messier than what it already was.

However, there seemed to have been no loud noises or crashes from flung obstacles coming from downstairs much to Emma's relief.

As her pacing intensified, she came to the realisation that it was doing her no good; all she was doing was transferring dust from one side of the room to the other. When she finally raised her gaze from the floorboards she was met with her reflection in the mirror that sat neatly on the far wall. Examining her worn expression, she ran her hand along the lines on her forehead that appeared to be deepening with each passing day. She decided that she looked like someone whose life had just drained the colour and vibrancy from every single pore.

* * *

Snow traipsed up the stairs, one by one. There was no denying it, both she and James had apologising to do and she wasn't sure how Emma would take it. Would she be acceptant or would she be cold? She had every reason to be the latter; James practically placed blame on her for things that were out of her hands and had nothing to do with her. It was just a case of laying it all on the closest person which, unfortunately, had to be their daughter who was just as affected by this than they were.

She approached the bedroom door timidly, rubbing her knuckles inside the palm of her free hand. She was acting worried but she knew that it was silly. She was Emma's mother. She was supposed to be the one who was feared. She removed her hands, dropped them to her sides and drew in a breath.

* * *

The soft rapping on the bedroom door was just loud enough to give Emma a fright. She was still scrutinising her exterior in the mirror and, although it was juvenile and stupid, she had to fight the urge to say, 'Mirror, mirror on the wall, who's the fairest of them all?' but she was sure that Snow would not be so approving. And now probably wasn't the best time to be joking around with fairytales and people's pasts.

She opened the door carefully so as not to awaken Henry who slept so peacefully that Emma had to check numerous times for sign of breathing. The things she feared about when it came to that boy.

Snow stood, resting a hand on the doorframe, her back arched and her shoulders high. She looked a little bit like a kid would when trying to pretend that they hadn't done something wrong.

"Hey, your father and I were hoping we could talk to you," Snow said to her just above a whisper. She must have caught a glimpse of the sleeping boy behind her tall frame.

"Is it safe?"

Snow couldn't suppress a laugh. She loved that about Emma; how she could, in any position, just say something that instantly lightened the mood. "I guess you'll just have to come down and find out," she played, not willing to let the atmosphere shift back to the way it was just yet.

"Okay, but let me just throw a blanket on Henry, okay?"

"Yeah, sure. We'll be downstairs when you're ready." She lightly touched the woman's arm and shot her a loving smile before descending down the steps.

Emma re-entered her bedroom and pulled out a blue blanket from her wardrobe. She drew in the lemon scent of the blanket and then placed it over Henry who stirred only a little before snuggling into the fabric. Emma kissed him on his forehead and made her way, with a few steadying breaths, down to them.

* * *

James felt terrible. It had only been a short while since he last spoke to Emma but it only took a conversation with Snow to realise how harsh he was to her and how he accused her of keeping information to herself. That's not how a father should talk to his daughter – that's not how a person should talk in general to someone they claim to love. He lashed out because he was angry but that was no excuse for laying it all on Emma. It wasn't fair to anyone and he needed to prove to her that he was sorry and that in no way does he place blame on her. _That _she had to know.

As he sat on the couch watching her climb down the stairs he felt Snow place a calming hand on his knee. He didn't even realise that it was bouncing uncontrollably. In gratitude, he patted her hand and stood up to meet the blonde.

* * *

Emma stood in front of Snow and James, arms flayed by her side. "So…" she directed at James, not wanting to let it be known that things he had said had hurt her. Just that brief moment with Snow upstairs was enough to conclude that both parents were truly remorseful for the last verbal altercation they had with her. She didn't want them to slip further into the dark despair they were desperately flapping to get out of. That hardly seemed fair.

James smirked at his daughter trying to compose her face and jangling her limbs as if to loosen them up. He noted with amusement that Snow did something similar, too. "So," he repeated. To his confusion, Emma broke his stare and curled her hair behind her ear. Snow nudged him with her elbow, signalling for him to elaborate.

It should have been easy for James to talk to his daughter but somehow anything he thought of didn't make the cut, didn't seem right. Fathers and daughters were meant to be able to communicate without anything being awkward, but James figured that because he had not had a rapport with Emma for her whole life and that he himself had no experience with being a parent that the words just didn't come. Instead, he opted for two words that never failed. "I'm sorry."

Emma looked at him through her eyelashes. "Me, too."

And then the words broke free. "Emma, I am deeply sorry for snapping at you. You didn't deserve any of my abuse and humiliation. It was just that I was completely blind-sided and didn't know what I was saying nor whom I saying it to." He moved around the coffee table and sat down on its edge, looking up at her. "I'm not going to lie; knowing that you knew about the deception made my heart drop. My not-so-little girl found out that one of her parents had the choice to go with her and then they didn't." He gritted his teeth. "When August told you what happened, did you ever think that your mother or I decided _not _to go with you? Did you know that we were lied to?"

Emma didn't want to answer. That thought did cross her mind in the early days of the reunion. Her whole life she had assumed that her parents had abandoned her for one reason or another, yet she then learned that she was sent away for protection and that August was sent with her. Yes she had grown confused the more she thought about it but assumed that they were unaware of what happened as that was the only conclusion that made any sense. If they loved her the way they showed and told her they did then they wouldn't have left her alone – they would have done anything in their power to have gone with her. "It did," she answered slowly, removing her gaze from James and fixed it on Snow who stared straight ahead, most likely suppressing her emotions. "But only because everything was so confusing and I hadn't got my head around what exactly was happening. And then I forgot about it because we were getting to know each other and I felt what it was like to be a part of a family who _loved _me and so that was the furthest thing from my mind."

"But you did think it," Snow affirmed, sitting down excruciatingly slow on the couch.

"Like I said, only for a short while," Emma shot in desperately, "I only thought about after everything; after we'd reunited and then it came to mind but it didn't make sense to me to so I just forgot about it."

Snow jumped up and headed in the blonde's direction to hold her. Emma didn't recoil and she realised that it was because she didn't want to. She wanted her mom to embrace her; she wanted to feel loved. "Emma, you have to know in your heart that we would never want you to be alone. If we knew one of us could go, we would have. In a second." She hugged her tighter and, for the first time, she planted a kiss on her daughter's head.

"I know, I know." She broke away and took in their two figures, tears forming in her eyes. What she was about to say was something she had imagined she'd say her whole life, something that seemed so natural to say all of a sudden. Snow looked at her quizzically. "I know, mom."

* * *

_Mom._

For a minute, Snow wasn't sure if she had heard her correctly. She'd never admit it, but ever since the reunion she had spent virtually every night, lying awake, imagining the day when Emma would call her that. The first time Henry had said it to Emma, Snow could see her face light up and feel the sheer adoration emanating from her for the whole day. She longed to experience that feeling; that feeling of knowing that they had reached a point where Emma could let herself be cared for and loved the way that other children could when with their parents.

And now that moment had come.

Emma had called her 'mom'.

She threw her hands up to the base of her neck and let the stinging tears escape one by one.

* * *

James was in awe of the huge step Emma had made. The reserved woman had let her walls down; so much so that she felt comfortable in acknowledging out loud how much progress was made. Emma saying 'mom' was her way of letting them know that she was finally at the place they always wanted her to be in. She knew she was loved and she knew that they had her best interests at heart. But perhaps more importantly, she knew she could trust them.

He placed his hand at the small of Snow's back, welling up at the exchange.

It was then that nothing else mattered to him. Though still upset over everything that had taken place, this moment had established something that was beyond any resentment he was feeling.

Emma loved them. The way a child loved their parents.

Sure they were separated for an insane amount of time but it didn't matter. There were still so many things to learn about her and she about them, and there still existed obstacles to overcome and problems to iron out and there probably always would be but all that James cared about right then and there was that Emma had torn down her walls to a certain extent and had opened her heart.

He rushed over in his delight and took her in his arms, squeezing her so close she may have lost oxygen and yet, she wrapped her arms around him in reply. "I'm so sorry for everything, Emma. I…I love you," he said, with a little hesitancy.

Emma pulled away but kept her hands on his arms. Snow had sidled up beside James and kissed him on the cheek, putting a hand on her daughter's. Emma cracked a small embarrassed smile. "I…I love you, too. Both of you."

Even as the words made their exit, she blushed, but that wasn't something she cared about. It was the right time to say it and the right moment to tell them how she really felt. There was no denying it, as she looked at them, she knew that was how it felt to be with parents. How it felt to be unconditionally loved even when you fault and snap at them. "And I'm sorry about how I've been since I've found out. It was a lot to take in and I guess I wasn't sure how to act around you."

"Same here," James joked as he picked up his jacket and slinked his arms through.

"Where are you going?" Snow questioned, her smile still as broad as could be.

He kissed her quickly. "There's something I have to do."

Immediately knowing to what he was alluding to, Emma's eyes were pleading. "Please go easy on him…dad."

_Dad._

He thought his skeleton would jolt through his skin but he harnessed his excitement…just about. "I'll promise to try…princess."

Snow giggled as James left the apartment and turned her attention to her blonde daughter, pushing hair off her face. "So, what do you want to do?" she asked.

**I think 14 chapters gave Emma enough time to finally call her parents 'Mom' and 'Dad'…I hope! I wanted to build it up to make it more realistic and I hope that that goal was achieved! Ha I hope you enjoyed and please, please, please review to let me know how you thought I handled it or, you know, about anything that I did in this chapter. I look forward to hearing what you think! :)**


	15. Chapter 15

**A huge thank you to all of you that reviewed and followed and favourited! Hope you like this chapter! :D**

**Disclaimer: Alas, I do not own Once Upon a Time.**

Emma couldn't help but beam at her mother's elated state. It was true that a part of her worried about James and his decision to see Gepetto and August, but when he left he looked almost content, like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders and so her worry seemed misplaced. What really rocked her was the fact that she had said those two words that previously had held her tongue hostage and were unwilling to be slipped out at any old time.

Mom and Dad.

There was a certain amount of fear attached to those words; that once they were out in the open for all to hear, the floodgates would fling wide and she would be left drowning in feelings and awkward scenarios. She knew they had to come at the right time and she knew that it had to come from the heart. And as she listened with serious intent to their agony and their longing for her understanding, something inside her clicked and it just felt…right. That inkling was solidified by the look on her parents' faces – it was sort of priceless in a weird 'my parents are my age' way. Yep, that for sure was still quite surreal but there was no doubting the connection she had with them, or the fact that they acted more and more that parental figures and less and less like friends and acquaintances the more time they spent together.

Realizing that she hadn't avertedly replied to her mother's question, Emma decided to shake herself out of whatever haze had taken hold of her. Snow looked at her expectantly. "Actually, would you mind staying here with Henry? There's somebody I gotta see, too."

Snow, not really following what Emma was referring to, raised an eyebrow but slightly smirked when a thought crept its way in. "Yeah, of course. Go easy on him," she ordered with a wink, hoping that her assumption was correct.

"Go easy on him, huh? Not sure that's in my nature." She winked back and in a snappy minute, threw on her jacket and a scarf - per Snow's request - and headed out the door with a wave.

Snow smiled and skipped up to see if Henry was awake.

* * *

James tensed the muscles as he straddled closer and closer to his intended destination. It was only in the last few minutes of his journey that he started to become a little more frustrated and on edge. Originally when he left he was so unbelievably happy with Emma and her calling him 'dad' that his simmering anger appeared to be nothing more than a faint memory but now it began to bubble again, red-hot under his skin. Nevertheless, he walked at a moderate pace, trying to quench the boiling and retain enough composure.

Mere yards away he could hear them laughing and joking, and a cacophony of tools clanging and music ascended toward the sky.

With a final breath James entered the workshop.

In auto-pilot, August reached across the landscape of springs, loose wood, and screwdrivers to lower down the music until it was practically impossible to discern the words and the melody was but a monotonous hum. He removed the hat from his head and set it next to the project they were working on.

He didn't divert his gaze much, but from the corner of his eye James recognised what exactly was under construction. "What is that doing here?" he demanded, pointing ferociously at the piece of wood.

Gepetto, without a word, lifted the wooden piece and handed it to James. He prayed that the King would immediately register what they were trying to do.

James examined the piece, tracing his fingers along the chipped edges, stopping when he came to the raised letters in the centre that read, 'Emma'. The letters were beaten and the colour stripped but there was no mistaking it; this was the special head border of Emma's crib. Gepetto and Pinocchio, back in the Enchanted Forest, had designed a personalised wooden border to sit at the head of the crib for the royal arrival, and somehow, by unknown means, they had retrieved it.

"I…I don't…" He was at a loss for words. "How did you get this?" He flipped it over and over again in awe.

August flung the cloth he was holding over his shoulder. "The storm messed up the town pretty badly, all sorts of things were thrown asunder," he remarked above-board.

"So you just found it?"

"Yep. Just under a pile of rubble."

James knitted his eyebrows together in bewilderment. "How did it get here…"

Gepetto advanced around to him again, taking the sentimental item in his hands. "We wanted to fix it," he plainly said in his strong accent, "to express our remorse for our deception."

"When I found it I remembered how much it meant to you both but it wasn't until our little… disagreement that I suggested to my father that we'd clean it up for you. And for Emma of course." It may have been his fatherly instinct or perhaps it was the fact that August labelled what had happened as a 'disagreement', but James really didn't like cocky August. As a child, Pinocchio was a quiet child who only spoke when asked a question. In James' eyes, the real world had had a detrimental effect on his attitude. Even the way he said his daughter's name sent shivers down his spine. However, he came here for a reason and he made a promise…kinda and he lived up to his promises.

"It's beautiful," he marvelled, mapping it again with his fingers. "Thank you."

"I am so sorry, King James, but my boy…I didn't know how the curse would affect him. I felt like I had no choice."

He drew in a deep breath and put down the border onto the workshop table in front of him. "I understand, I do. I'm a father, too and my family is my life. And if I found myself in a position like yours I probably would have done the same thing." He shoved his hands into his pockets. "However, you betrayed our trust and could have jeopardised our future safety and that is something I have struggled with, along with the fact that my daughter grew up without her mother. Things could have ended up much worse than what they did." August attempted to speak but a raised hand from James stopped him in his tracks. "Yet as I look at my family now, I'm so grateful that they're all here and that they know the truth and when I examine the big picture, they are the things that matter the most. They are the most important things that I have and I realise that I am doing myself no good by harbouring ill-feelings about the choices you both made. I wish to move forward from this and I hope that you will, too."

He'd had worked on that all the way over there and yet it still came off robotic and stoic. Like a first-time actor trying to recite lines or a child itching to remember a vital part of a story.

"Yes, of course," Gepetto verified with a stern nod. "That is what we wish, also."

"Oh, you can keep this. Take it home." August handed their sanded project to the King. He clenched his jaw. "If you don't mind me asking sir, how is Emma?"

James grinned widely and tucked the wood inside his jacket to shield it from the icy sheets that suddenly exploded from the ominous sky. "Actually, August, I do mind." He winked and lunged into the deluge and Gepetto let out a chuckle at his son's bruised ego. "Come on, my boy, we get food."

* * *

Henry scuttled off the bed and slipped his feet into his sneakers. Snow had checked up on him and through his muffled hearing, he heard her announce that she was making him some bacon and eggs. That was enough to yank him out of his slumber. He tumbled down the stairs, his legs a little numb from the rest and Snow had to practically catch him as he bounded toward the floor. "Oops," he laughed, standing upright. "Sorry."

Snow giggled and shook her head at her grandson. "Go wash your hands before you eat," she commanded lightly, fixing his shirt that had pulled all to one side in his attempt at coming down the stairs.

"Okay," he chirped, running away to the bathroom in excitement.

_He must be hungry,_ Snow assumed with a smile as she claimed her place over the stove, lifting pieces of bacon and placing them onto Henry's plate. With a sly glance in the direction of the bathroom, she shoved a piece of stray, burnt bacon into her mouth before the boy returned to take his seat. She wasn't hungry herself but the aroma of sizzling bacon filled the air and stung her nose. She just had to have a little taste.

Without further delay, Henry was back, thanking her and launching an attack on the food prepared. In between vicious bites and gurgles of drink, Snow thought she heard mumbles from the boy about how good it was but it was kind of hard to tell because his mumbles turned into some form of delighted drone.

"I'm glad you like it," she remarked wryly despite having no clue what Henry was trying to say.

It was funny, for years Snow had spent hours upon hours around the boy and thought she was going crazy because of the need she felt to protect him, to look out for him. She cared about him deeply, and wanted to help when she thought he yearned for somebody to believe in him. Maybe that was why she felt the urge to give him the book of fairytales. She told herself at the time that the possibility of a happy ending was one of the most powerful things in the world and that Henry could benefit greatly from believing in them but now she looked upon that with a great deal of gratitude to the universe or fate or whatever it was that gave her that insistence. Because of that little boy, everybody had the possibility of their happy endings back.

That little boy, who also happened to be her grandson. The son of her daughter. Inside, she was squealing with glee.

"Are you okay?" Henry asked, licking his fingers for the remains of his lunch.

"Yeah, I was just…thinking," Snow replied with a smile as wide as can be.

* * *

Emma knocked on the doorframe of the Sheriff's office in an attempt to grab Graham's attention. She never wanted to admit it, but before the whole party fiasco, every time Emma met Graham she got a weird feeling in the pit of her stomach. If she was thirteen she'd call it a crush, but at the age she was she wasn't sure what the correct term was. But then August came to town and things just got…complicated. He was just so allusive and mysterious, and he was well-versed and well-travelled – someone who always had a story to tell and that was appealing.

But then this petty fighting began and all Emma could do was stand on the side-lines rolling her eyes, as she occasionally did. Instead of making her lean to one or the other, it forced her to take a step back and look at the big picture.

"Emma," Graham exclaimed in surprise, jumping up from behind his desk and spilling a few papers onto the ground. "I didn't expect to see you here."

She pressed her hands into the back pockets of her jeans and lifted her shoulders. "I didn't plan on coming here," she started, "but something just made me feel like I should."

He smoothed down his shirt. "Emma, I'm so sorry for what I said the other night; I don't know what came over me."

"It looked a bit like jealousy," Emma offered dryly, "but that's why I'm here, actually. I wanted to tell you that it's okay, nobody blames you. I don't think you should have done it…but it's okay."

Graham smiled crookedly. "It was bad though, wasn't it?"

Emma tossed her head from side to side. "Yeah for a bit there I wasn't sure if they'd get past it. They're coming around now."

He inched closer to her; so close that she could feel his breath on her. "I am sorry," he apologised sincerely.

She backed away slowly. "Like I said, don't worry about it. Actually, you probably did us all a favour so please, don't apologise." She cracked a smile.

"Are we…good?"

"Yeah, we're good."

With a farewell nod, she ducked out of his office and out the door and Graham shook his head and let out a quiet laugh, secretly hoping that this visit would mark the beginning of…something between them.

* * *

James threw open the door of his home, shivering due to the icy rain he was subject to. Snow put down the book she was reading to get a good look at him. "Charming, you're…"

"Wet? Cold?"

She stood up. "Well, yeah."

"Well it_ is_ raining outside."

"So I see," she chuckled, helping him remove his rain-leaden jacket.

"Is Emma home?" he asked her expectantly, his eyes twinkling.

"No she went out to see Graham I think. She should be back soon. Why, what's up?"

A mischievous smile danced on his lips. "Look." He held up the wooden piece between his two hands.

Snow's right hand shot up to cover her mouth as the shock of what she saw coursed through her body. "Oh my…" she breathed, feeling the rough texture. "Where did you get this?"

"August found it and he and Gepetto fixed it up for us. I can't wait to show her!"

"This is just…amazing." On cue, tears pricked her eyes and she took it in her hands. "I loved this."

James laid a hand on her shoulder and kissed her forehead just as Emma walked through the door looking as though she had just braved an ice storm.

**So what'd you guys think? Did I handle the James/August/Gepetto scene well or did I end it too quickly? And did I really need the Emma/Graham part? These are the questions I ask myself when I write but I never really know if they're the right move, you know what I mean? Haha I'll stop babbling now! Please review and let me know if you liked it or not! I do hope you did! :)**


	16. Chapter 16

**Thank you all so much for your kind words! Hope you enjoy this! :)**

Snow and James looked like giddy schoolchildren as they greeted Emma…which only made her wary. "What's going on here?" she inquired before erupting into a fit of sneezing. She only inspected herself in the rear view mirror of her yellow bug but she was pretty sure that the icy rain mixed with the biting cold was turning her skin a translucent shade of blue, not exactly helped by her light red leather jacket that was useless against the brute force of nature. Maybe she should have worn the scarf Snow insisted she throw on instead of leaving it on the passenger seat thinking she'd fair just fine without it. Why is it when your parents tell you to do something, you automatically do the opposite even though the majority of the time they're right? She hoped she wouldn't live to regret it, though the throbbing in her throat and the incessant shivering weren't a good sign for the future.

"Emma, are you okay?" Snow asked worriedly.

"Yeah, fine. Just a bit wet and cold, that's all," she shrugged off, trying to suppress the urge to release a hearty cough.

Snow eyed her. "You didn't wear your scarf, did you?"

_How does she do that?!_

"Of course I did."

She put her hands on her hips. "Oh, really? Then where is it?"

_Oh…_

Snow took Emma's silence as confirmation of her assumption. "I thought as much."

Directing her attention to her eager father in the hope of ducking any more incriminating conversations with her mother, Emma decided to ask the next question. "So, why are you all so…jumpy?"

Her father gradually removed an object from behind his back before thrusting it into the air as if it was the most amazing thing to ever grace this side of the world. Which, by the way Snow was ogling it, could very well be the truth. Expecting her parents to want her to react in some way, she glided over to have a closer inspection. Anticipating her move, James, with great care, gently placed the object into her hands and gave Snow an encouraging smile from the corner of his mouth which she replied with extra vigour.

The, what seemed to be, a wooden board of some kind, was heavy in her hands but what Emma found so…crazy was that she instantaneously felt a sentimental connection to it. Her eyes followed the nooks and crannies of her carved name, noting the delicate intricacies and workmanship. "It's…beautiful," she choked out, still not quite sure why she was getting so emotional. Maybe it was the cold travelling up to her eyes.

Then again, maybe not.

"This was a special border Gepetto made for us for your crib," Snow explained. "Everybody in the kingdom was jumping at things to do to celebrate your arrival and Gepetto brought us this about a week before you were born." She rubbed it gently in her hands remembering how grateful she was and how happy this gift had made her. It was the first and only personalised gift they had received.

"He knew that we wouldn't be able to put it in the wardrobe with you, but with the threat of the curse and the strain your mother was under he thought he would make something just for us. Just for our family. Something that we could hold close to our hearts that would, even for the briefest moment, allow us forget about everything else," James added situating a gentle hand on the blonde's shoulders, his gaze fixed on the board.

Emma was sure that it was the most beautiful material thing she had ever seen. The pale, worn colours of soft yellow, blue and pink still vibrant and striking though it was years old. "How did it get here?"

James narrowed his stare in thought. "Now that I don't know; August said he found it after the storm. I guess there were more items from our world here than we knew."

"It doesn't matter how it got here," the brunette chimed, taking it in her hands, "it's still as gorgeous as I remember."

Probably for the first time in her life, Emma was speechless, stultified by the impact the small item had on her. Apart from the baby blanket she had, this was the only other thing she had that stemmed from her _real _life. If that was the word for it. Sure she had things bought and given to her as she grew but the blanket was the only thing she had that came from her actual parents, the only thing made especially for her. Until this, that was. It made her feel like she belonged in the world her parents and their friends hailed from, that somehow this was the thing she so desperately craved. There was nothing Emma wanted more than to feel like she belonged or deserved to be a part of this amalgamation of worlds, and the crib border manifested that feeling into something she could touch.

* * *

After Emma took a shower and wriggled out of her chilling, damp clothing she was delighted – on the inside, of course – to see that Snow had made her a hot chocolate. Just the sight of the steam rising from the mug sitting on the table was enough to make Emma feel slightly better than she did.

She felt as though she had been hit by a truck.

Her lungs were constricted, refusing to let air pass through easily; her throat was roaring red and burned every time she breathed or tried to swallow; and the tip of her nose was a pretty, blushing pink. Whatever energy she possessed had been zapped from her in the blink of an eye. But maybe, just maybe, hot chocolate was the cure.

It was unlikely, but she couldn't show her mom that she wasn't well. Firstly, because Snow would fuss over her like crazy and secondly, because Emma didn't want to give her the satisfaction of being right.

She dropped down onto the seat at the table, giving the muscles in her back and neck a good stretch. "Thanks for this," she gestured to Snow who sat opposite her. "Where's James?" she continued, taking a sip and squinting through the burn as it slid down her throat.

Snow, mentally noting Emma's wince, also took a sip before answering. "He's upstairs playing 'Fight of the Charmings' or something like that with Henry."

"'Fight of the Charmings'? What is that?"

"I have no idea! Apparently it's a game James invented and Henry can't get enough of it," Snow laughed.

Emma laughed along with her and both women went quiet for a little while, allowing the warm liquid to heat them through and through and inhaling the sweet scent. Over her mug, Emma spied her mother twirling her wedding ring hastily, which usually was a sign of her uneasiness. Or worry. Or fear. Or…well, in truth it could mean a number of things. Emma wasn't as sharp at reading her mother as she was of her, plus that added with her clouded mind meant that she was off her game.

"So…" Snow drawled somewhat shyly, "you called me 'mom'."

Emma sat back in her chair with her mug, resting it against her chest. The heat radiating from the mug seeped through her skin and gave her insides a soft glow. "Yep. Sure did."

At the same time, the two women took a gulp of their drinks, an awkward silence enveloping them.

"That was…"

"We don't have to talk about it," Emma blurted out in all her discomfort. She knew she had said it, but she wasn't expecting a post-moment analysis. It was not that she was ashamed or embarrassed that she said it; her discomfort stemmed from the proximity between them.

"No, we don't, but can I just say one thing about it?" Snow asked softly, running her fingers along the handle of the mug.

Emma clamped her lips into a resigned half-smile, half-grimace in brace for what was to come…which hopefully was nothing. Nothing at all.

"It was nice," she said plainly, taking small sips of her drink. As much as she would have loved to have wrung her arms around her and tell her that she loved her, Snow realised that the moment had passed and it would only switch Emma into reticent mode.

"Really?"

"What?"

Emma sat forward again. "That's it?"

Snow looked at her cunningly. "Yep. That's it."

"Oh. Okay."

As they both finished their hot chocolate, Snow let out an audible sigh of disappointment. "So you didn't wear your scarf?"

Emma nearly spat out the remaining chocolate goodness. "What?"

"How's your throat?"

_Play it cool, Emma. _"It's fine," she lied…rather badly. When they first became friends, Snow informed Emma that she was a terrible liar. Apparently, when she attempted a lie, her eyes would dance from side to side in a shiftily manner and would completely give her away.

"So it's bad," Snow stated, pushing up off the chair and walking around to put the back of her hand on the blonde's forehead. "Oh, you're getting a temperature," she warned to herself.

"No, I'm not; I'm fine."

Her mother stalked over to the medicine cabinet that Emma didn't know existed and took out a bottle that contained a bubblegum pink fluid that did not, under any circumstances, look delectable. "Fine is not really a feeling though," she pointed out candidly as she strode back over and planted a hand on Emma's shoulder to stop her from escaping.

_So much for that plan. _"Well it is to me."

"Here," she raised a spoonful of pink goo in front of her face, "take this."

"What are my other options?"

She smirked. "You don't have any."

Shakily, Emma took the spoon and ever so slowly brought it closer to her lips, praying it wouldn't make her puke. She clenched her mouth around the white spoon and dispatched the gunk down her throat as deliberately as possible, as if by doing it that slow she'd be saved of the taste. Which in hindsight, made zero sense. "Tangy," she pouted, throwing the spoon onto the table.

"Yes, but it'll help you," Snow tried to make light of Emma's condition. She collected the bottle and spoon and made her way over to put them back in place. "So you went to see Graham earlier?" Her tone was conversational, but under all that Snow sweetness hid an intense curiosity.

Emma coughed acutely, sputtering for air. "Yeah. I wanted to let him know that nobody was angry at him for what he said."

"I must remember to thank him. If he hadn't of let his, admitted, pride and jealousy get in the way, then we may have never known about what happened."

"Yeah, maybe."

Snow shot Emma an odd look. It was one of those looks that teenage girls gave one another when trying to communicate a secret message. "And August cleaned up the crib border."

That was a statement from left-field. "What's that got to do with anything?"

"Just that, you know, it was nice of him."

"Yeah, it was, I guess." Emma wasn't following anything her mother was saying. It was like everything she said had a double meaning.

"You should head to bed and rest. That medicine will only go so far; you have to do the rest."

That was something Emma wasn't going to argue with; a sleep sounded so good right now. "Yeah, I think I will. Thanks for the drink."

"You're welcome, sweetie."

* * *

James was whipping up some food in the kitchen for himself and Snow when he heard a knock on the door…followed by another one…and another one. And another one. Either it was more than one person, or someone was just extremely impatient. "I'm coming!" James yelled, wiping his hands with a cloth and jogging over to answer it.

He jolted the door wide open and groaned when he saw who was on the other side.

August and Graham.

"Back again to cause more trouble?" James offered sardonically, most of his weight leaning on the door frame. It was not like he intentionally planned to be cold or harsh to them and to be fair both had done something recently that James admired: Graham was honest and August admitted when he was in the wrong, but that didn't mean he was in the mood for them or that he wanted to tolerate them. He knew by the way they glared at one another that one word would instantly cause them to fight. Even the way they stood alerted James: wide apart but shoulders tensed. August's smile was just a bit too smug.

"We were just wondering-" August began in his usual manner – confident.

"If Emma was home?" Graham cut in to finish.

James bowed his head in impatience. "In answer to your question, yes she is home, and the answer to your next question is no." He remained firm.

"No to what?" August laughed.

"No, you can't see her."

"King James, if I could just see her for like a minu-"

"Graham, Emma is sick in bed at the moment and she's not having any visitors."

"Any visitors or just us?" This time it was Graham's turn to crack a smile.

James played along, cupping his hands behind his back. "What do you think?" he smirked.

"Could you please just let her know that I was here," August said, putting on his gloves.

"And me, too," Graham jumped in, refusing to let August get the better of him.

He sighed. "Of course I will."

Both men departed at the same time, still eyeing each other up and moving around as if the other was…contaminated, or oozing radiation.

"Who was that?" Snow called from the kitchen when James shut the door.

"Visitors for Emma," James laughed and joined his wife.

**Okay so I'm going on holiday tomorrow morning for the week and I will be in the middle of nowhere in the countryside with practically zero internet connection so it will be highly unlikely is I update until next weekend! If I find connection somewhere then who knows, maybe I'll be able to submit something but I'm pretty sure I won't. I'm sorry about that, believe me! I know a week could be a long wait for an update but I hope you will all bear with me and hold out until next week! Please don't desert me… haha :P **

**Anywho I hope you enjoyed this chapter and please review and let me know what you think! ;)**


	17. Chapter 17

**Hey everyone! Internet connection! Haha so here's the next chapter – a little earlier than expected! I hope it doesn't disappoint after the longer wait than usual…enjoy! Oh and thank you for all your reviews and follows! :D**

**Disclaimer: Alas, I do not own Once Upon a Time.**

Later that night, Charming and Snow quietly ate their dinner alone as both Henry and Emma were asleep in their collective room. As James chewed on the pasta he had conjured up, he reflected on the guest appearances of Emma's suitors at the front door. In fact, he found himself sniggering as he cast his mind back.

"What's so funny?" Snow inquired innocently, slopping a shovel-load of pasta onto her fork and scooping it into her mouth.

James shook his head – still laughing through his nose. "It's nothing."

"No, Charming; tell me!" Even though she had no idea what was so funny, Snow found herself chuckling along with her husband's infectious, melodious chortle.

He put down his knife and fork. "It's just that…I thought one of the few upsides of having a twenty-eight-year old daughter was _not_ having to deal with all the _boy stuff _and yet, I find the boy stuff knocking on my doorstep."

Snow gazed at him whimsically. "I always knew you'd be one of those fathers."

"And what kind would that be?" He looked almost insulted at whatever insinuation the brunette was making, despite being clueless as to what that was.

She let out a giggle again. "Oh, Charming don't look at me as if I've just killed your prime horse!" she jested, helping herself to another load of the cheesy food. "What I meant was that I knew that you would be a very loving, caring, extremely overprotective father." From day one, James had been full-steam ahead over the pregnancy; he made sure that they had all the essentials required, that there was a room cleared out especially for the new arrival, and that everyone looked after Snow's every need. Even though Snow was the Queen, she wasn't one for barking orders and letting others wait upon her. But when she fell pregnant all that changed. She began to be treated like a Queen. So it wasn't hard for her to see that her husband was going to be exactly the same, if not more, protective and caring over their child.

She spoke so sweetly that James almost didn't catch-on to the slight jab at him. "Like you can talk!" he exclaimed cheerfully. "This coming from the woman who wouldn't dare walk down steps when she found out she was pregnant!"

Snow sat up straighter, embarrassed. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Honey, you asked me to carry you down the stairs all the time and we lived in a castle…there were steps everywhere!"

"Well I was pregnant!" she retorted, flushed. "I was confused and scared and didn't know what would affect the baby."

"But it was stairs…" James would have stopped earlier but watching Snow squirm was just too good an opportunity to miss.

"Oh, shush," Snow guffawed, chucking her napkin across the table at her husband. "It was only a phase anyway."

He stretched across and seized her hand, giving it a loving squeeze. "I know, I'm sorry. But is it so wrong to be over-protective?"

"Of course not, but she is old enough to make her own decisions over who she wants to date, or even if she wants to date at all. There's no point in dictating who can come into the house and who can't because at the end of the day, Emma's going to choose somebody by her own accord and you won't be there to offer suggestions or ban him from ever seeing her. She's her own person."

He hugged her hand again, slightly mesmerized by how Snow dealt with these situations so well. He recognised that the relationship Snow already had with Emma allowed her to approach certain scenarios in a vaguely different manner. A manner that, up until now, seemed to be working better than his winging-it method. "I just didn't think we'd have to deal with it."

"Well, technically we don't." She kissed his rough knuckles. "But I understand that you won't be able to let it go and watch from a distance because that's the kind of person you are."

"So you're saying that if I throw some guy out the door one day you'll still love me?" he teased.

Snow smiled. "Always."

* * *

The blazing sun stabbed through the drapes in Emma's room, wakening her. She wasn't sure how long she had been asleep for but it couldn't have been too long since that annoying groggy throbbing pain in her head that usually indicated lack of sleep was in full flow. Trying to suppress it, or at least lessen the thud, Emma smacked her forehead with the heel of her hand and groaned. The good news was that she didn't double over in pain when she breathed in – her lungs approving of the rest she had been forced to do. Hopefully the cold or virus or whatever illness she was subject to was on the way out and she'd be able to roam around the streets of Storybrooke again, and not be held captive by the confines of her room. It was funny; when she wandered around the town she took no notice of it, but since she had been chained to her bed, her wish was to stroll through the roads that had become her home. That was what Storybrooke meant to Emma – home, a place where her family and friends resided.

It was official; the sickness was having a greater impact on her than she had feared. Starting to think of places like home and people as friends was the first step towards becoming one of those small town residents. The type of person that grabbed a coffee on the way to work and had a chat with the owner, or the type to wave at someone on the street and ask how they were_. _Not exactly things associated with the way Emma was. It was a gradual but a change all the same.

She plunged back onto the pillow. The throbbing back, she squeezed her eyes determinedly to shield any vagrant sun rays and kicked off the covers, suddenly too warm. She thought it had worked, that she had fallen into some kind of alert slumber but the entrance of her mother into her room denied her of her belief. "Oh you're awake," the brunette sang, "I wanted to bring you up some medicine." She put that dreaded pink glop on the bedside table and Emma's heart dropped.

"I don't need that," Emma insisted, "I'm feeling so much better, really." Which was the truth; she didn't feel like she was dying anymore. That was an improvement.

Ignoring her daughter's assurances, Snow threw the back of her hand onto Emma's forehead and seemed content with what she found. Not too hot, not too cold. "Well, it seems that way but you still should take this. It'll get rid of whatever you have quicker." She pasted the spoon with the stuff and, before the blonde had the chance to protest incessantly, she shoved it into her mouth.

"Hey!" Emma coughed as the disgusted fluid trickled down her throat. "I could have done that myself!"

"I know but I thought this way would be less painful for both of us." She screwed the cap back onto the bottle and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Very funny," Emma said sarcastically, wrinkling her nose at the lingering taste.

"So you're really feeling better?"

"Yes, I am. So you and James can stop worrying."

Snow rolled her eyes. "Emma, we're your parents; we're never going to stop worrying about you."

She sighed in defeat. "Where's Henry?"

"James took him to town to buy him ice cream."

Emma's eyes lightened. "Oh, can I have some?"

"You want ice cream?" her mother laughed.

"Like you wouldn't believe!"

"I'll make sure they pick you up some."

"Thank you," Emma beamed.

Though obviously recovering and retaining her sense of humour, Snow didn't like the way Emma looked. She was pale – far paler than usual. She was like a ghost in the bed. "Are you sure you feel alright? You don't look so good."

Emma closed her eyes. Not in chagrin but because the sun was just a tad too strong for her liking. "Yes. Besides a headache, I'm definitely getting there." Snow nodded in acceptance. "How long was I out for anyway?"

She gazed up at the ceiling in thought. "I don't know; well, it's noon now so about eighteen hours or so."

Emma's eyes widened. "Eighteen _hours_?! Feels more like eighteen minutes!"

Snow used two fingers to brush the hair off her daughter's face. "That's just because you're sick," she tittered. "But I am amazed at how you're feeling considering you only fell sick yesterday. You must be like your father; he never stays sick for long. I, on the other hand, take days to get over the tiniest of colds."

Emma let the air travel in and out of her nose, relishing in the normality of it all. Eighteen hours ago -apparently, even that simple task proved to be beating her. "That's some immune system you got there."

"Don't I know it," she said. "So you obviously didn't wake up at all last night then."

"Why you ask that?"

Snow bit her lip. "You had some…visitors last night."

"Visitors?" Emma, aided by Snow who saw what she was trying to do, sat upright in the bed. "Who?"

"Take a guess," she toyed.

The blonde shook her head, releasing a shaky laugh. "I don't get it; why do they keep wanting to talk to me?"

Snow gazed at her daughter in bewilderment. It made perfect sense; Emma was beautiful. Only, that sentiment wouldn't go too far coming from her since she was her mother, but that was the truth. Her daughter was the flawless combination of both herself and James. However, all those years of fending for herself and not letting anybody in provided Emma with a tainted view of herself.

If only she saw what they did.

"Because, Emma, you're beautiful. Plus, you're not afraid to speak your mind and you have a great sense of humour."

"Oh thanks _mom_," Emma scoffed, not willing to go down this route. It was just making her uncomfortable.

"And then there's the fact that you're a princess; some guys find that appealing." She was messing with her now but there was truth in that. From what Snow gathered, men thought the same thing about princesses as women did about princes – they were something to be desired. Perhaps that _was_ one of the reasons, but Snow figured that just Emma being Emma was enough to draw anyone in. There was just something about her, something…magical, if she could use that word.

"Oh, yeah I'm sure that's it! Everyone wants a piece of Princess Emma!"

"Of course," Snow said sweetly in confirmation. "But don't worry, I'll make sure that nobody comes in to visit unless they have your permission."

Emma mulled that over for a minute. What did it matter who came and who didn't? There was no point in letting August and Graham engage in battle any longer; if they wanted to see her, they could. Sick or not.

"No, it's okay. I'm getting better now so it's fine. Anybody who wants a piece of the princess can have one," she joked.

Hesitantly, Snow gave her a quick kiss on her forehead. "Okay. Now, rest up."

* * *

As Snow expected, a knock came on the door later on that day. Luckily for the guest, James was out and Snow was a much easier parent to deal with face to face. "Ah, Graham, how nice to see you," she greeted warmly, gesturing for him to come inside. By the look of relief on his face, Snow realised that he had anticipated coming face to face with James. In one hand he was carrying a lovely bouquet of flowers; all various shades of red, and in the other he held what appeared to be an expensive box of chocolates. Well, as expensive-looking as you could get in Storybrooke.

Snow was always so fond of Graham, not least because he took favour on her and spared her life all those years ago but because she had come to know him as a friend and discovered him to be a very kind, compassionate soul. When the curse broke, Snow was delighted to meet him again knowing everything she did as now she had the chance to really know the man who had shown her deep kindness and mercy.

"Oh, are these for me?" she joked, pointing to the flowers.

Graham became flustered. "Well…eh…I…"

"I'm just kidding! Emma's in bed upstairs." Though releasing the tension in his shoulders, he stayed rooted to the spot, visually awkward. "That's why you're here isn't it? Go on," she declared pleasantly.

He flashed her a grateful smile. "Thanks, Snow White."

"Just call me 'Snow', Graham."

He smiled again. "Snow," he bowed before trotting up the steps.

* * *

When Graham timidly opened the door he was both relieved and frightened to see that Emma was awake reading a book. Henry's fairytale book. He cleared his throat to mark his presence and Emma looked up from the pages. "Hey," she welcomed in her usual slightly-warm-slightly-cold manner. Only she could pull something like that off.

"You're doing some research," he replied, indicating to her choice of literature.

"Just been reading up on the Huntsman, actually," she said openly, closing the book gently.

"Anything interesting?"

Emma noticed that he hadn't moved an inch since he walked in but she also took note of the gifts he had brought. _Nice flowers._

"Only that you liked to cry over dead wildlife," she remarked coyly with a smirk.

He clicked his tongue in acceptance of her jab. "That was a long time ago."

"So I see. What you got there?"

He opened his arms to display the items. "I know it's not exactly a Brazilian tropical fruit pie or whatever but I figured that when you're sick, you can't go wrong with chocolates and flowers." He moved to hand them to her.

"I thought chocolates and flowers were more date-like than things you give to sick people."

"I guess you're right." Graham pulled up a stool from the window and situated it by her bed.

Emma smelled the flowers and placed them next to her on the bed, taking in all the colours. Next, she took the lid off the expensive chocolates, studying the names that each one had, realising they were all in French. "I have no idea what any of these are," she admitted with a chuckle.

"Neither do I," Graham admitted, "I guess we'll just have to try them all."

**Okay, so just to point out that this doesn't mean Graham and Emma are together. Right now I'm not sure which way to go or if to go down that route at all but I thought I'd have a little part just for them since we didn't have as many in the first season; flesh out the relationship a bit more. And I may or may not have an Emma/August part in the next chapter…so I guess we'll all have to wait and see!**

**If you have any suggestions or anything you'd like to see happen with anybody in this story, do let me know and I'll see what I can do about it! ;) Please, please review and tell me what you think!**

**As always, I hope you enjoyed!**


	18. Chapter 18

**Hey everyone! Here's a James/Emma chapter. Hope you enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own OUAT.**

That night with Snow out running some errands, James was left on babysitting duty. That meant taking care of both Henry and a sick Emma. Fortunately for James, Henry was a quiet, easy-going little boy who was just happy to sit mindlessly in front of the television watching some kids' show that involved ninjas and bad guys and so-called magic. Magic, magic, magic. _If only they knew magic really existed, _James thought to himself as he willed himself to sit through the show until at least the commercial break – which felt like a lifetime away. Apart from the bright, vibrant colours and the odd funny joke here or there, the show really had nothing going for it. But Henry seemed almost captivated by it, yelling the names of the characters at the screen as if they could hear him and getting excited when something new appeared out of nowhere. To James it was more fun to watch him than the screen.

Emma had been asleep for most of the night since he returned home and so he didn't have to check up on her too often. But Snow had warned him, rather severely, that he had to, no matter what, give her medicine before she stepped back in that door. He shifted in his seat and twisted his neck to see the time on the clock. Snow would be back soon and she'd verbally rip him to shreds if he hadn't done what she asked. Though, as he tried to find a comfortable seating position, the thought of even climbing the stairs up to the small bedroom was daunting. Earlier, after they got ice cream, both he and Henry decided to take a walk around Storybrooke, taking full advantage of the surprisingly sunny weather. It was nowhere warm or mild, in fact in felt colder than it had in weeks and the wind was cutting but the presence of the sun was enough to put a smile on his face and lighten the spirits of area. It was amazing what a bit of Vitamin D could do. They walked and walked for hours and by the time James collapsed onto the wooden chair at home, his legs were crying in pain. Every muscle screeched for relief but the pain didn't subside for a long time. Even now as he gave them a stretch he could still feel the strain in each sinew, each tendon, each ligament. He had to start jogging or lifting weights to keep his body in fighting condition; in the possibility of a battle he couldn't be puffing in the corner, gasping for air as the rest darted past him wielding weapons.

But he had to check on his daughter. He hauled his body off the seat, tousling his grandson's hair in the process. In reply, the boy gave him a quick toothy grin before returning his gaze to the colourful show.

* * *

It took nearly all his exertion to make it to the top. _My poor legs. _When he thought of Henry sitting downstairs pain-free, he suddenly realized how old he was. Obviously he didn't look it, but he felt it when compared to his life back in the forest. There he could ride horses and engage in battles of honour with only breaking a sweat but here the energy was sucked out of him.

On the other side of the door he heard shuffling and a few faint coughs followed by a sneeze. Snow had said that Emma was getting better but from behind closed doors it sure didn't sound it. He rotated the doorknob and stuck his head in to make sure it was safe. "You mind if I come in?" he asked.

"Sure," she responded groggily, flailing her arms either side of her.

James walked in and shut the door behind him. "I'm supposed to give you your medicine," he professed, taking up the bottle and inspecting its contents with a sniff. "Wow that smells…"

"Yeah…I know. The only thing worse than the smell is the taste."

James rocked the bottle back and forth, examining the liquid as it flowed, or rather plopped, to either side. There was nothing even remotely attractive or desirable about the stuff. But he was the father and he had to make sure that his daughter took the medicine – and that Snow wouldn't kill him. He shrugged in reassurance, as if to say, 'No big deal' and poured some onto the spoon.

Emma stared at him blankly, rubbing her eyes. "Are you going to make me take that? After smelling it?" she questioned incredulously. "I'm getting better, I don't need it."

James eyed her suspiciously, his lips curling into a lopsided grin. "I see what you're doing," he said.

"What are you talking about?" Emma heaved herself up in the bed, bringing all of her blonde locks to one side.

"You think that because Snow isn't here that you can get away with not taking the pink stuff," he enlightened, "that I'm the lenient parent. That you can bat your eyelashes at me and throw in a few begs and I'll take pity on you and not give you the medicine."

Emma lifted her eyebrows. "Actually, that never even occurred to me," she answered.

James puckered his lips. "Oh."

She gave him a bashful smile. "But…do I _have _to take it?" Even to herself she thought she sounded like a whiny kid.

"Yes. You do." Firm and assertive.

Without a word of protest – though she didn't look too impressed – Emma snatched the spoon out of his hand and gulped down the medicine.

"Easier than I thought," James remarked as he placed the items back on the table.

"Easy for you to say; you weren't the one taking it!"

He tucked in the blankets around her. "Well it's done now so no point in complaining." He fastened the blankets so tightly that she figured it would take forever to wriggle out of them. In a weird way it unnerved her; like she couldn't escape…like she was about to undergo a vigorous interrogation. She gulped a little at the thought, though not sure why. "So how was your day?"

Snow mentioned that James "got rid" of her visitors the other day and Emma wasn't blind; the glint of disapproval stung his eyes with the utterance of the names of her admirers. It was sort of funny to watch his shoulders tense and his eyes steel and if it wasn't for the fact that he was taking care of her and had just locked her in with blankets, she may have poked fun or even honestly admit that she had had a visit from one of them earlier, but she wouldn't dare do it now.

"It was fine. Uneventful, even. I'm pretty sure I slept through most of it." The medicine trickled further down, unsettling her stomach. It really was disgusting – no doubt about that.

"Really? So nothing unusual or exciting happened today?" The undertone to his question confirmed Emma's suspicion.

He must know. Better not dance around the subject too long; James looked like one of those fathers who laid down the law when push came to shove. He probably wouldn't be too fond of her…bending the truth.

"Well apart from Snow force feeding me that poison, I had a visitor. But I'm guessing you already knew that." Somehow, she felt transported back to her teenage self. Lying and playing dumb never were her strong points and she winced away from her father's sudden domineering figure. Aside from his usual jolliness and cheerful disposition, James could be one intimidating man.

She watched as her father smirked and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt to just before the elbow. "I saw lover boy escape just before I came back with Henry," he clarified.

The blonde rolled her eyes ferociously. "He just brought over some flowers and chocolate, that's all."

James could have come up with numerous things to say but he could hear Snow in the back of his mind warning him. Her voice reverberated around his head and it almost felt like she was in the room with them. It baffled him why he got so agitated over the topic of _boyfriends _and Emma. His instincts were in overdrive and just thinking about some man, even if it was someone like Graham…hanging around his daughter. But like a mantra, he chanted to himself to be understanding, to relate to her situation. To back off. Go with the flow. He wondered if other fathers dealt with stuff like this; although, not many of them would have a daughter the same age as them.

"Were the chocolates good?"

"They were French," she replied as if that answered the question from every angle.

He sat on the empty chair next to her bed, his elbows resting on his thighs. "I…don't know what that means," he laughed.

"Let's just say I'm not a fan of French chocolate." When she and Graham tested each sweet, they were met with more unpleasant flavours than pleasant. Each had a thick, gooey centre more disgusting than the last. She managed to plaster on a face of content throughout the experience but inside she was gagging. How Graham could scoff one after another amazed her; she actually admired his tenacity.

"Oh."

Emma snickered.

"At least the flowers are nice." And they were. Exactly the type of flower he would imagine Emma would find pretty – _if _she liked flowers at all. But this bunch were in a baby blue vase and positioned neatly in front of the window so it could get the perfect amount of sunlight so she must have had a soft spot for them.

She nodded in agreement. "Are you not going to complain about him being here?"

"There's no point; it's not my place. You are an independent adult who can make your own decisions. You don't need my input, sweetie. And I know that you know that."

"So you're not going to yell for a bit and tell me to stay away from the male race?" she joked with a hint of curiosity.

"After careful consideration – from Snow, I figured that boys and all that is not my territory. Absolutely none of my business." He offered her a warm smile that reached his eyes. "I know I can be a bit over-bearing and over-protective at times but that just comes naturally to me when I look at you. Obviously I realize that you are not a kid and that you can handle your own problems and situations but there's always going to be a part of me that longs to save the day and rescue you. Make everything better again. To be someone who you can turn to for help or advice. Someone you can look up to, like a…hero, I guess. It's corny but it's the truth." He never once took his gaze off her face and he watched her expression change with the slightest of movements. "I'm sorry if I cross a line now and again," he finished sincerely.

Emma bit her bottom lip and smoothed out the area covered in blanket around her with her two hands. She wasn't going to cry – that much she knew – but her heart was filled with an admiration for her father's honesty and his ability to let out his emotions. That was something she regularly struggled with and to see it done with such poise and elegance was a reminder of the kind of people her parents were. "Don't ever be sorry for being my dad," she said quietly, wishing that some of that elegance would rub off on her. "I never had a foster dad who ever cared about the boys I dated or the people I hung around with and at the time that was exactly what I wanted. But, now I wish I had a father who actually _cared _about me back then. Not someone who spent their time drinking and resenting me for being another mouth to feed. I wish I had you and Mom back when I didn't think I needed anybody. Maybe then I wouldn't have felt so...alone."

The pricking of tears at the back of James' eyes was almost too much to bear but he fought it with all his might. "Well you have us now and I know it's not the same and I understand that it may never be, but you will never feel alone again, I promise."

The words hung in the air, Emma soaking them in and believing them with all her heart. Perhaps she had known all along that Storybrooke held the key to her happiness. She never felt alone here; she had Henry and Snow and James and all their friends. In actuality, it became harder and harder to imagine her life before she passed that 'Welcome to Storybrooke' sign. How did she live the way she did? All alone, without even a single person to turn to? That was the way things were and the way she wanted them to be but now that couldn't be more opposite to what she wanted now. She wanted to be surrounded by the people she loved, and those who loved her back. She wanted to be with her family.

She let out a chorus of unhealthy, phlegmy coughs in all her thinking.

"The medicine must be working after all," James commented with a snigger, rubbing circles on her back as she lunged forward for air. "Snow will be thrilled."

"Yeah. She'll be over the moon," Emma groaned.

When she finished spluttering up a lung, James fell silent again. "So…you and Graham. Are you guys…?"

"A couple? No, no. I mean he's sweet and caring but I'm not looking for a relationship right now. Everything is complicated enough as it is without throwing something else into the mix."

Inside, James was jumping for joy and thrusting his fist into the air, but outside he remained composed. "You told him that?"

"I had to," she shrugged. "I didn't want to get the guy's hopes up. He seemed fine with it as long as we could be friends."

"What about August? I'm sure it won't take too long for him to make his move."

"I'll tell him the same thing."

Downstairs the front door shut and both James and Emma could hear Snow calling out to them. "Better go say hello to the wife," James said, finding his feet. "She'll want to check up on you so she can determine how good a job I did taking care of you."

"I'd give you a solid six out of ten," Emma teased, coughing again.

"Oh, how noble of you," he joked back.

He didn't even get the chance to get out the door before Snow was in the room, her face flushed from the cold air.

**So, what'd you guys think? I love James/Emma and Snow/Emma chapters because I feel like it really builds up their relationships with one another. I hope I pulled that off in this chapter and I hope you all liked it! Please review and let me know!**


	19. Chapter 19

**Hey all! This chapter takes place before Snow arrives home at the end of the last chapter. I really hope you all like this one!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own OUAT.**

Snow marched through the streets of the unusually empty and eerie Storybrooke as fast as she could. A dense, black darkness weighed upon the town, sucking both the life and the breath out of it in intense suffocation. The chill in the air was enough to cut her in half and the dim, menacing surroundings were made only more threatening by the way her white breath formed in front of her face as she rushed. Not a sound was to be heard; just the faint sounds of her heels clacking against the icy pavement.

_Clack, clack, clack._

It was silly and irrational to think it, but Snow couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched. Or followed.

Or both.

And that feeling was only intensified by the fact that Storybrooke was a ghost town. Snow had only popped out for a short while to grab a few essentials and had left James in charge at home but in the time it took for her to zoom her way through a few stores, Storybrooke had emptied itself of residents. Which, as far back as she could remember, never happened before.

_Clack, clack, clack._

She clutched her arms around her waist in an attempt to retain body heat, and perhaps subconsciously, to protect herself. Her bag of groceries hung off her left forearm, swaying and knocking against her as she briskly made her way home. Despite knowing that it was just the cotton bag, she found herself jumping at the light touch of it as it brushed her body.

Willing to reach home in the fastest time possible she charged along the home stretch, trying to ignore the not-so-distant shuffling behind her. Was it really there or was her mind playing tricks? That was a question that she couldn't find the answer to. It sounded like…footsteps. Very light, pattering footsteps that ever so slowly seemed to be getting closer and closer. The wind howled in Snow's ear, shooting the polar wind around her head, giving her a slight headache.

"Nearly there," she whispered aloud to calm herself. That shuffling was intensifying. She desperately wanted to sneak a peek; to just turn her head slightly and shoot a glance to quench any fears she possessed, to calm her nerves. To prove that nothing or nobody was there.

After a few more long, yet tentative, strides Snow garnered up just enough courage to have a hasty look over her shoulder…but what she found only panicked her more. No, there was nobody there per se, but there was something. A shadow of something darting out of sight with a muffled scuffle, which raised the hairs on her arms and neck and trickled a chill down her spine. Whatever it was, was enough to send Snow hurtling down the street and into the apartment block without ever peeking behind her. When inside she gripped the radiator on the wall to catch her breath and let her heart steadily thump back to its normal rate. Her cheeks were flushed and her breath ragged but all she wanted was to be in her home with her family.

And the worst of it was that she couldn't tell anyone what happened; especially when in fact, nothing had actually happened. For all she knew there could have been nothing there; just her mind projecting things due to a lack of sleep or stress. And Emma being sick was a great cause of stress for Snow. A cold is only a minor illness but the thought of her daughter being anything other than healthy made Snow worry like crazy. That was why she forced her to drink that horrible syrup and practically chained her to her bed. That was why she was out running errands in the first place; she picked up a few magazines she knew Emma enjoyed, not to mention her favourite chocolate cereal and some ice cream since James "forgot" to pick up some on his way back. Sometimes that man could be so absentminded.

Yes that had to be it. Stress had to be the culprit.

Once again she told herself that nothing was there.

* * *

"James? Emma?" Snow called as she unlocked the door, prying open the buttons on her jacket.

"Snow!" Henry exclaimed when she arrived. He took the bag she was carrying and placed it on the counter, noticing the struggle she had. "They're upstairs," he informed happily as he put the ice cream in the fridge freezer.

"Thanks, Henry. How was your night?" She threw her jacket on the back of a chair at the table.

He leaped back on the sofa, and sat cross-legged. "It was great; Grandpa even watched TV with me." He sounded as if that was the most amazing thing ever to happen to him, which was so sweet. Just seeing the effect James had on him could melt even the toughest of hearts. And that melting-of-the-heart feeling was so refreshing considering the amount of heartbreak Snow had to go through as Mary Margaret.

She sauntered over to him and kissed him lovingly on the head and reminded him quietly that he had to go to bed soon to which he replied with a simple, "Okay," and a shrug of the shoulders. _Such a good kid, _Snow sighed inwardly.

As she ascended the stairs, she could hear the soft, musical combination of her husband and daughter's melodious laughs. Just the mere sound of their bonding was enough to make Snow's heart swell and almost forget about her creepy walk home.

Almost. Not completely.

Even as she thought back on it she experienced a weird sensation like paranoia, like someone was watching her. One thing she knew for sure was that she was never going to go out that late in the dark by herself again. Not if she could help it anyway.

* * *

James' eyes gleamed as soon as he caught sight of her. He loved it when the cold weather brought out the crimson red in Snow's cheeks and the nip of her nose. He leaned in to give her a gentle peck on the lips before embracing her in a sweet hug. "Hey honey," he said as he enveloped her with his arms, "I'm glad you're home. I missed you tonight."

As much as he loved devoting time to Emma and Henry, nothing made him happier than his whole family being together. That was the time when everything he knew made sense and everything was just _right._

"I'm glad I'm home, too," Snow returned with a tiny bit of shakiness; just enough for James to give her an inquisitive look. She didn't meet his stare and he swept a comforting thumb across her cheekbone. Her cheek was still that bit cold but he could feel the heat generating under his touch.

"How are you feeling, Emma?" Snow asked, smiling at her husband's gesture.

"I was feeling alright until my father made me take that…that…poison," she grumbled, pointing accusingly at the bottle as if it was to blame. She then clasped her hands upon her stomach despondently. "Can I at least sit downstairs for a while? Being bed-ridden doesn't look good on me."

Snow and James exchanged looks. It was true that Emma was sounding and looking a whole lot better than earlier so, in theory, it would make sense for her to walk around and exert some energy.

"Are you sure you're okay? You don't want to sleep?" James asked worriedly.

Emma rolled her eyes. "Guys, seriously. The last thing I want to do right now is sleep so can I leave this bed?" Noting her parents' hesitation and obvious deliberation – they were no doubt trying to find some illogical reason why she should stay right where she was – Emma discerned that it was time for a tactical change. "Pretty, pretty please with sugar on top?" In her mind she sounded sweet and innocent like a child but by the suppressing-a-laugh face her mother was wearing, Emma was sure it sounded ridiculous. And who ever said change was a good thing? Stick with what you know – that was her motto. Now she just looked silly.

"Okay," James sighed. "You can go downstairs but you have to lie on the sofa and keep yourself covered with a blanket. It's freezing outside and the rooms aren't retaining as much heat so if you start to feel in any way cold or uncomfortable, I am carrying you back up these stairs. Got it?"

Snow was struck by how…parental James was. He had been trying since day one to be the parent that was relatable, the one Emma could turn to no matter what but for some reason he shied away just a tad and struggled when it came to being assertive. But at that moment, Snow caught a glimpse of a man who was growing into his role, who was assuming his job as father…and it was a beautiful sight. "Got it?" Snow reiterated, attempting to produce the same tone as James but realising that that was just a pipe dream.

Emma lifted her palms up in the air in agreement. "Got it."

* * *

Emma snuggled into Snow with her baby blanket, suddenly feeling the cold that James was talking about. Her mother draped her arm around the blonde's shoulders and pressed the side of her face against her curls. Snow's body heat was enough to calm her system and stop her teeth from chattering. She didn't even realise that she was shivering until she could feel the warmth spread throughout her limbs and despite being a little uneasy about the close contact between them, she found that that washed away as soon as she rested her head on the brunette's shoulder. The rise and fall of Snow's chest was rhythmic and soothing and within no time Emma found herself slipping deeper and deeper into slumber.

* * *

With extreme caution Snow delicately lifted her arm around her daughter's head when she was certain that Emma was safely tucked away in dreamland and slinked out from beside her. She gently guided the blonde's body onto the couch and folded the blanket across her making sure that no bare skin was visible. The temperature had dropped dramatically and James had insisted they bring Emma back to her room but Snow didn't want to wake her; she looked so peaceful, so young, so innocent.

"She's so cute when she sleeps," James commented from behind her. Snow turned to face him and his two bowls of Emma's favourite cereal.

"I think she looks a bit like you when you sleep…minus the snoring and the drooling."

Her husband gasped at her in mock hurt. "You know, for a second there I thought you were actually going to pay me a compliment," he joked wistfully, handing her a bowl.

She touched his arm lightly before taking up a spoon. "Emma's favourite cereal, huh? Not what I had in mind when you said 'snack'." She took a large bite, letting the chocolate coat the back of her throat.

"You're still eating it," he pointed out, slurping the milk purposely.

"Ew, that's disgusting," Snow laughed, smacking him on the arm. With a mischievous glint in his eye, James put down the cereal utterly slowly, his eyes never leaving Snow's, and in the blink of an eye had grabbed Snow by the waist and spun her in the air spilling milk all over the floor. Snow giggled profusely, paying little attention to the mess they were making. Only when Emma stirred slightly did they break away…while still tittering.

Luckily, 'cute Emma' – as James had dubbed her – didn't wake up. But it didn't take long for the excitement to wear off and soon enough Snow was down on her knees mopping up the milk on the floor. "I can't believe you did that," she chuckled.

"I can't believe you didn't see it coming. Usually you're one step ahead of me." He bent down to help his wife finish up.

"I guess I was distracted." They both stood up at the same time.

James heard that same shakiness again. "You okay?"

Snow sighed and edged onto a stool by the counter. James wedged himself between his wife and the counter, suddenly anxious. He swore he heard something in her voice earlier but was quick to assume nothing of it, yet now as she sat before him he sensed that there was indeed something amiss. "It's nothing. I just had a…strange walk home."

James crossed his arms. "Define strange."

"Look, it was nothing okay? Just my imagination running rampant."

He moved his face so close to hers that his breath warmed her features. "Snow," he pleaded.

She gave in. "I thought somebody was following me."

"What? Are you sure? Did you get a good look at him?" James was red in the face, his anxiety levels growing every second.

"I was just walking and it was dark and there was no one around and I just thought…" She trailed off, gathering her thoughts, trying oh so hard not to sound crazy. "I tried to have a look and I really thought that someone was there but…maybe I was just jumping in shadows. You know how walking in the dark plays with your mind." She let out a half-hearted, ashamed laugh. She was making a big deal out of nothing; she didn't see anything – all she heard was, what she thought to be, footsteps and the odd shuffle. Nothing but sounds that were no help to her here. She was worrying for nothing and now she looked stupid.

However, Charming listened with great intent, nodding his head and holding her hand firmly. "So that's why you've been distracted."

"It's no reason to be, I don't know why I let my mind play tricks on me."

"You don't know that there wasn't anyone there. Anybody would be freaked by that; it's human nature," James soothed, the wheels in his head churning away.

"But James-"

A loud crashing sound came from Emma's bedroom, frightening both James and Snow into standing and Emma into wakening. Snow grasped the collar of her husband's shirt, pulling herself to him in a reflex action. Instinctively, he threw his arms around her. "What was that?" Snow whispered to him warily.

"I don't know," James replied truthfully with the same wary undertone.

He took a vigilant step toward the staircase when another sound echoed from above. Looking for the closest thing to a weapon, James plucked a baseball bat that belonged to Henry out from the corner and held it behind his head.

"You guys stay down here," James warned as the first step creaked under his weight.

**Okay so I know this was a little different to the other chapters as it wasn't all fluff and such but I hope you don't mind. And, I have sort of an idea of where to take it but I am very open to suggestions! Anywho, I hope that you did enjoy it and please, please review! It's mean a lot to me if you did **


	20. Chapter 20

**Hey! Thank you all for following and reviewing! It's nice to know that you are all still enjoying this ;) **

**Disclaimer: I do not own OUAT.**

One step at a time, James climbed the stairs with deliberate vigilance. The noises seemed to have stopped but that didn't mean that something or someone wasn't up there. If it wasn't for Snow's recollection of her walk home perhaps he wouldn't have been so quick to assume that somebody was inside. Yet as he crept – and silently cursed the not-so-subtle creaking of the old staircase – he couldn't help but be thankful that Emma had been downstairs with them. Although even in her sleepy, ill stupor she probably would still be able to put up a good fight to any intruder. She was more than capable of defending herself – one thing that James was very aware of.

He squinted back momentarily to check up on his family and, after a panicked millisecond, remembered that Henry was in the room he and Snow shared. He exhaled slowly, his courage bounding through him. He flipped the door knob to the right and kicked it wide open, slamming it against a dresser and spilling a number of objects onto the floor.

The room was dark but due to the light spewing in behind James he caught a glimpse of a moving shadow and in a swift movement, he swung the bat in the intruder's direction.

"Ow!" the voice cried from the darkness before a nasty thud rang around the room.

Immediately recognising the voice, James flicked the light switch, illuminating the space. "What are_ you doing _here?" he spat, still gripping the bat tightly.

"Was it really necessary to hit me?"

"August," James boomed, "what are you doing here?"

Before he had a chance to reply or get his breath back from that blow to his abdomen area, Emma and Snow sprinted up the stairs to see what all the commotion was about. "What's going on?" Snow demanded when she saw the doubled-over figure in front of her. "August, what are you doing here?"

"Seriously that question is getting old," he said, winded. "Wow, that's some swing you got there, King James." He arched his back so he could stand-up and placed a hand on his hip, wincing.

James straightened his stance. "You're lucky it wasn't a sword."

"Yeah, I'm _so _grateful right now." With a sharp exhale he turned his eyes toward the small crowd in the doorway.

Emma moved in front of her parents. "Well?" She tried to hold back a cough but it was not to be.

August panted as he held his stomach, using the bed post for aid. "I heard you were sick," he said plainly as if the answer was completely obvious and everyone there was clueless.

Emma narrowed her eyes and tilted her head to the side. "And you couldn't have just called…or knocked on the door?" She didn't have the patience for this. Not only was she sick but she was abruptly wakened by crashing noises coming from her bedroom. Her head was just one big muzzy maze that weighed heavily on top of her body; it was like at any second it would drop and she would have to use every energy reserve she had to pull it back up. Why did this have to happen now?

"I'm pretty sure that if I knocked on the door your father would have slammed it right back in my face. At least this way I'd get in the house," he explained rather bluntly, shifting his look to James' authoritarian high-shouldered posture. It was a pretty terrifying sight, actually.

Her father whipped up the bat and positioned it underneath August's chin. "You're _really _lucky that this isn't my sword."

"James, calm down," Snow scolded, pushing the bat down and taking hold of it herself. "August, despite what may happen to you if you do indeed knock on our door," she paused to peek at her husband, "you still shouldn't have come in through the window."

"How did you even get up here?" Now it was Emma's turn to be curious and slightly angry. Noticing the remains of what used to be her jewellery box smashed on the floor, she suddenly felt like taking the bat herself. Exhaustion was taking over her and she just wanted it over with. Not to mention the fact that August climbing up to her bedroom window freaked her out.

August rubbed his face with his left hand and sighed. "The fire escape. It's not that sturdy so when I reached the window I sort of…catapulted myself through. Well, as much as I could considering your windows are _tiny_."

"My _windows _were not made so that fully grown men could climb through them," Emma pointed out.

"I know; I learned the hard way." He pulled off his black leather gloves one by one. "Look, I planned to come earlier but I didn't know if you'd want to see me. It took me a lot of walking around town to gain enough courage to climb up that death trap; but I thought it'd be a nice gesture." He sounded like he truly believed that and Emma read the sincerity of those words in his eyes. Still, it was totally weird and belonged to a wholly different era. Nobody did those types of things these days.

But where Emma was becoming more understanding, James was getting more impatient. "August I think it's time for you to leave; right, Snow?" He looked to his wife for encouragement but he found her lost in thought in some far away land. Her eyes were glazed over as they looked right through August. "Snow?" he pressed, giving her hand a squeeze.

"Where you the one following me?" she blurted.

Startled by her outburst and the edge in her voice, August stepped backward and stumbled on a piece of dresser shrapnel. "Following you?"

"Wait, what? You were followed earlier?" Emma probed with apprehension.

"Were you?" Snow pressured.

"Will someone please tell me what is going here?"

"August," James hissed, his face turning red again.

"What? No of course not," August uttered defiantly. "What makes you think that?"

James wasn't having of the man's ramblings. As far as he was concerned, August was guilty. He strode over to him so he could be in his face, their noses barely touching. "I don't know; it could be the fact that you just broke into our home," James snarled. "Or because you blatantly told us that you were walking around town earlier. Pretty good reasons to be suspicious don't you think?"

"People walk around Storybrooke all the time; that means nothing, and I've already explained why I'm here so I don't care what you _think_ you know; I'm telling you it wasn't me."

"Well if it wasn't you, then who was it?"

"I. Don't. Know." August emphasised harshly. "But what I do know is that you can't automatically assume you're safe just because you're in Storybrooke. Back in the Enchanted Forest people scoured around constantly on high alert – that's just the way things were. What makes you think it's any different here? I don't know who it was that you say was following you, Snow, but it certainly wasn't me."

August's plea of innocence made no impression on James who appeared to staring the man down to the ground. "How do we know you aren't lying?"

"Dad, back off," Emma demanded, yanking her father's arm to pull him away and he conceded to her wish.

August answered anyway, adjusting his leather jacket. "Why would I follow Snow? I know where she lives and I'm here now. There's absolutely no reason for me to do anything like that. Plus, you both know me and despite what you think of me at this point in time, you know that I'm not that type of person." Emma knew he'd never admit, but it was clear as day that he was rocked by how intense James was. But that thought brought on another – he should be used to that by now. And yet, she had to admire the way he fought his case.

Snow, who was collecting the objects of Emma's dresser off the ground, nodded. "Yes, yes of course we do, August. I'm sorry I just thought…" She picked up a bottle of perfume that was still intact and placed it on top of the dresser, fixing its position until she was satisfied. It was only then that she realised it was a bottle she owned. "Emma, did you borrow my perfume?"

Emma spun around to face her. "_That _was an abrupt change of subject," she noted sarcastically. "Eh…yeah a few weeks ago I think. I must have forgotten to give it back to you. Sorry."

"It's okay…" Snow was distracted at this point as she crossed her arms and rubbed them vigorously. Her mind was racing, jumping from one thought to another, blacking out the event happening before her eyes. She knew August didn't follow her – that theory made absolutely no sense – but then who did follow her? Listening to August helped her see that she didn't imagine what happened. Somebody was there. And now that change had occurred, Storybrooke was no longer the safe town it used to be. Or at least what she believed it to be.

James, still pretty livid at August's presence in his daughter's bedroom, ignored the topic change and continued to emit irritation in his direction. "I think you should leave," he said through clenched teeth.

"No, dad, it's okay." Emma threw a hand across her father's chest to stop him from doing something he'd regret…like throwing August out the window which, right there and then, looked like a _very _strong possibility.

"I don't think he should stay."

"Well I'm saying that he can," she clarified. "We'll just have a short chat and then I'll send him on his merry way."

"Emma-"

"It's my decision to make, remember? It's okay, he'll be gone before you know it," she reassured with a warm smile. She liked how James always made sure that she was alright with the situation and how he always put her first. Even now as he became overprotective, she still felt a sense of belonging and of being loved and looked after. It was hard not to smile at her father after seeing the extent to which he would go to make sure she was okay.

Snow, snapping out of her daze, guided James out of the room. "Come on, let's go downstairs."

"Make it quick," he warned sternly as he pulled over the door half-way. Just closed enough to be private but just open enough to hear the murmurs. Unluckily for him, Snow was quick to see his plan before it was properly executed and shut the door.

"Nice try," she quipped with a wink, her daze truly shattered at this point.

* * *

Snow and James let silence envelop them as they enjoyed some of Snow's hot chocolate. Snow was keenly aware that James needed time – and chocolate – to cool off but the quiet was killing her. Silence only meant that she'd be alone with her thoughts and there was nothing Snow wanted less. Thinking made her jumpy and worried.

"Is it safe to talk yet?" she joked.

"How long has it been?"

"About fifteen minutes," she replied, checking the clock on the wall.

"I thought it was going to be a quick chat."

Snow laughed softly. "Charming, honey, you need to relax. Emma isn't looking for a relationship right now – she's made that clear to us."

He leaned in closer to her, using the counter for leverage. "What kind of guy breaks into a girl's bedroom? And what part of that plan seems nice or romantic? Back in the Forest, men were honourable and treated women with respect; they didn't fight over her like she was a prize or pull tricks to make her like him. They were gentlemen."

"I'll admit that breaking into the apartment was definitely not his smartest move and I'll commend him for venturing up that fire escape – I don't know too many people who would try that - but maybe you should ease up on him a little; Emma didn't seem to care so much so maybe you should do the same."

"I'm her father," James stated, swishing his drink, "and you can't say anything. You automatically jumped to the conclusion that August was your pursuer." He pushed away the mug, suddenly not thirsty anymore. Secretly the thought crossed his mind but for fear of backlash, he dared not air it out now. That would only give Snow more ammunition to use against him and she already had enough of that as it was.

"Well when something creeps you out earlier and then someone breaks into your house, it's natural to jump to that conclusion and have that reaction," she defended.

"At least we can cross August of the list of suspects," James joked half-heartedly. He hated the way this rooted in Snow's system and he wished he could take that anxiety away for her but he didn't know how. Mainly because he had no idea who he was dealing with. And the more he didn't want to think it, the more he thought the worst.

Snow stood up with the two mugs, put them in the sink and turned on the tap. James joined her, placing his hands on her shoulders and kissing the top of her head. "I don't understand it," Snow thought aloud, scrubbing the mugs with passion. "I've been thinking about it all night and none of it makes sense to me. Who was it?"

There was a subtle whisper of a sound behind them.

"It was me."

**Yes I really am going to leave it there for now…I have to rethink my plan! Haha don't be angry, I just have to get the creative juices going!**

**Oh I wanted to ask you guys a question and it may seem a bit odd… here it goes…**

**How is my writing? Like, for example, is my dialogue believable? Or are my descriptions too vague? I know it's weird but I'm always wanting to learn and gain feedback and if I want to do something with my life that involves writing I'd like to know if I'm up to the task…if that makes any sense at all! Ha please feel free to be brutally honest! :)**

**Anyway, I do sincerely hope you enjoyed this chapter even if I did cut it off at the worst possible time! Please, please review and tell me what you all think! :)**


	21. Chapter 21

**The 'Who followed Snow?' mystery shall be revealed! I hope you guys like it…**

**I do not own OUAT.**

An awkward silence soaked the room once her parents had shut the door. August remained unmoved, still using the bedpost as a means of keeping himself upright following James'…attack and visibly relieved that it was just the two of them in the room. Emma puckered her lips and cross her arms to keep herself warm. "So…" she began, not really sure what to lead with. "You heard I was sick."

"Yep. I had a bit of a run-in with lover boy who told me that he had breached the confines of your home and had visited you. He said you were in a bad way."

"So Graham told you I was sick?" It wasn't hard to believe, especially not when the two were seemingly at war with one another, but Graham wasn't the type to stir the pot. He preferred to stand back and resolve personal issues from afar which would usually mean that he would avoid August at all costs and refrain from engaging in any kind of conversation with him; so this was unexpected.

"I know, it was weird," August said, reading Emma's mind, "I guess he just wanted me to know. He probably thought I wouldn't be able to get in." He smiled with a mischievous glint in his eye. "But I did and with only minor injuries." From his smugness, Emma discerned that August loved being at war, loved to be one step ahead at all times, loved the thrill of a challenge.

"I would hardly call being batted by my father a minor injury. You should probably get that checked out," she advised, pointing to his wincing frame again.

August waved off her advice. "I've had worse," he assured. He looked around by the window in search of something and Emma's exhaustion seeped its way into every part of her already weakened body. "I had some flowers with me but I must have dropped them on my way up," he surmised, scratching his beard.

He started mumbling something about buying her more and making it up to her but all Emma could think about was getting into bed and coughing until she could sleep. The temperature of her room was steadily dropping by the passing minutes due to the half-open window that, from Emma's vantage point, appeared to be broken and that was doing nothing to make her feel any better. Actually, she couldn't remember a time when she felt worse. Perhaps the medicine wasn't working as well as Snow had thought. "Look, in some weird Shakespearean way this was sorta…sweet, but August, I'm not looking for a relationship right now – with anyone. My life is messy enough without adding something else to the mix."

"So you're saying it's just bad timing?" He sounded hopeful but could see that Emma's stance on the particular subject wasn't budging.

She shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe. But right now all I really care about is going to bed." She closed her eyes as a sudden headache thumped erratically.

He slapped his leather gloves back on, finally able to stand without support. "So I should go," he said, bracing himself to exit out the window. "Would you mind if I used the front door?" he asked embarrassedly, cursing his pain and his anxiety over stepping back onto the fire escape. The dull ache that moaned every time he made a movement filled his every thought but he tried his best to hide that from Emma – though she knew it. The deep breaths and grimacing a dead giveaway.

"Yeah just don't make eye-contact with my dad," she laughed feebly, her hand on the door knob. Just as she was able to open it, she heard an almighty gasp flow from downstairs followed by what sounded like something smashing into a million pieces. She exchanged an uneasy look with August before approaching the steps.

"Where do you think you're going?" he whispered somewhat aggressively, jerking her arm back.

"Downstairs to see what's going on," she whispered back.

"I don't think that's such a good idea. Besides you can hear so much better from up here." He pulled her to the edge of the staircase, allowing her enough room to peer over and gauge what was going on down below.

* * *

"Please don't be alarmed," she said, "I know it looks deceptive but I promise no harm. I bring information." She opened her arms in a humble gesture almost as if to bow for the King and Queen. Her disposition was nervous and timid, yet she possessed a certain amount of clouded self-assurance. She smiled meekly toward them before reconfiguring her face as an emotionless canvass.

James put a protective arm in front of Snow. "Who are you?"

The woman bit her lip in hesitation. It was clear to James that she was concerned about divulging her identity – the most sacred thing that a person had. But he needed to protect his family; they were the most sacred thing he had.

"My name is Belle."

"Belle?" Snow racked her brain for even the slightest clue of who this woman could be but she came up short. The name definitely sounded familiar, no doubt about it, but for what reason she had no clue.

Fortunately, James seemed to have made the connection. He still guarded Snow with his arm but his body relaxed. "Sir Maurice's daughter."

"Yes."

He cleared his throat and dropped his arm. "I thought you were…"

"Dead?" she finished. "Yes, well apparently so did a lot of people. I have Regina to thank for that." Her eyes became a sinister shade as she uttered her name, her body stiff. She shook her head as if to rid herself of whatever thoughts haunted her. "She's the reason I'm here, actually."

Snow knew the day would come when she and her family had to face the repercussions for what had happened the fateful day they remembered their true identities and magic was released. Not that anybody practiced magic in Storybrooke; the only thing scarier than using magic in a foreign land was not knowing what would occur when one did; generally people refrained from wielding any magical source out of fear. But eventually, everyone had to face up to it. Regina and Rumple were missing but they had magic and that was something that could not be ignored for too long. "You have information on her whereabouts?" Snow inquired with a deep breath.

"Wait," James interrupted hastily, his voice booming. "What business do you have trading information with us? From what I had heard around the kingdom, you worked for Rumplestiltskin – what will this information cost us?" Though not knowing much about Belle, James was hesitant to accept any kind of assistance from someone so close to the Dark One. Too many people's lives were in jeopardy for him to be so reckless with whom he deals with.

She smiled reticently. "He does have quite the reputation, doesn't he? He's not all bad; if people understood all of what he has endured perhaps they would be less fearful and more considerate of him." James waited for her reply to his question. "It will cost you nothing." Her answer was absolute; not an indication of a lie.

"How do you know we can trust you?" Feeling edgy, Snow twirled her wedding ring as she wondered what information was to be given. She was aware that Belle, to her, was a stranger who had an affiliation with Rumple and thus could not be trusted. But anything she could tell them about Regina paved the way for them to be one step ahead of her and to put any sense of an uprising to rest.

"You don't," Belle said, "but I fear that if you don't listen closely to what I tell you then something awful may occur." Snow's trepidation only amplified and she found herself torn between trusting Belle and sending her away. "He doesn't know I'm here," Belle continued, noting Snow's apprehension and James' reserve. "If he did…well I don't know what he'd do. That's why I followed you; I didn't know much about you except from a vague description Rumple mentioned in passing and I had no idea where you lived."

"Why do you want to help us?"

Belle rubbed her hands together in a nervous fashion. "Look I know that you have every reason to be cautious but just because I have a…because I know _him _doesn't mean that I'm like him. I don't condone the things he has done and don't necessarily agree with the choices he makes but I do believe he has the power to change. I was brought up a good sense of morality and I cannot stand by and watch as evil threatens good."

"What's that supposed to mean?" James moved around to stand in front of her, his interest increasing.

She crossed her arms. "I overheard a conversation between Rumple and Regina and from what I heard she's willing to do anything in her power to get Henry back."

* * *

Emma's heart shot up to her mouth. It took nearly all of her might - and August's – to keep her on top of the stairs. Regina stealing Henry away from her was too horrible to think about; it was the thing that frightened her the most. And yet here was this woman confirming that fear to her parents. She wanted to run down and shake the woman for all the information she had but August had a firm grip and reassured her that barging in on the conversation now would only make Belle run…and they needed all the help they could get. Instead she took deep, meaningful breaths to calm the swelling of anger bubbling in the pit of her stomach and paid attention.

* * *

Snow gripped the counter. "She said that?"

"Yes."

"And Rumplestiltskin was talking to her about this; is he involved in whatever plan she had concocted?"

"No."

"How do you know?" James wasn't letting her affiliation with him go.

Belle was defiant. "Because I asked him right out. Trust me; he has no intention to align himself with her – not after what she did to him. He wouldn't lie to me."

"Well where is she? What is she planning to do?" Snow was shaking now, angry tears stinging her eyes. She couldn't and wouldn't let Regina ruin their lives again –she was not getting away with it.

"I…I don't know. She just…disappeared without a trace and that was it. I wanted to warn you to be on alert because you never know when she will show up. She has magic now and though I believe that it is not the same as in the Forest, it is still more powerful that any earthly thing we possess here. You need to be careful."

Snow strode over to James to feel his reassuring touch, to have him hold her and calm her. "What do you suggest we do?" Without a second thought he rested his head on hers and laid a hand on her hip, knowing that she needed him as much as he needed her.

"Why is everyone still up?" A sleepy-eyed Henry ambled out of Snow's bedroom in his pyjamas, rubbing his face in fatigue. Despite his blurry vision he saw the stranger in his house. "Who are you?"

Belle turned her gaze to the clock facing her, worry twisted on her face. "I have to go," she expressed, turning on her heel and heading to the exit.

"Wait, please," James pleaded.

"I must go." Over her shoulder she gave Henry a kind smile. "Be careful," she advised before darting out the door.

* * *

As soon as she had left Emma bounded down to her family, whisking Henry into an embrace. The kid had no idea what was going on and she didn't want to explain it to him. All she wanted to do was hold him and keep him safe. A lone tear trailed down the side of her face as she let him go.

"What's going on? Who was that?" He was full of questions now; his tiredness fading fast due to the way everyone was looking at him. Self-consciously he wiped his face with the bottom of his t-shirt.

"Her name is Belle," James said, rubbing Snow's arm.

"Like, Belle from the 'Beauty and the Beast' story?"

James hadn't thought of that. "Eh…maybe. I guess so."

"The one who fell in love with Rumplestiltskin?"

That was a part of the story that James wasn't familiar with. He knew she served him but as for a relationship between them he didn't know. Frankly, before she showed up he believed her to be dead.

"That would explain why she was so quick to defend him," Snow said.

"So you're saying that Rumple is the Beast?" Emma questioned in confusion.

"I guess so," Henry shrugged. "What did she want?"

Snow, worried for her grandson, crouched down to his level. "She came here to warn us about the Evil Queen."

It was as if all the colour in Henry's face drained at once. "What about her? Has she been found?"

"Not exactly but we have to be on the look-out," Emma explained ambiguously.

Henry, being the smartest kid that Emma had ever encountered, automatically knew what they were alluding to. "She wants me back," he stated.

"Don't worry, we'll never let that happen," Snow guaranteed.

"Yeah, there's no way she'd getting to you, pal," August interjected in his usual laid-back manner which only got a severe glare off James. He bowed his head and vowed to remain quiet.

"You're safe with us," James assured the boy.

Henry furrowed his brow. "How do you know that?"

"Because we're the Charmings; and nothing and no one is going to break us apart again."

**Okay so I wrote Belle as a good character and, more importantly, as a character you can trust even though I have no idea whether or not she will be in the coming season. Although I doubt they'll write her any other way. **

**I didn't want the person following Snow to be too obvious so I decided to go with Belle because I think she is a really interesting character and she's a character that's linked into both the good and evil worlds. As always, I hope you enjoyed it and please review and tell me what you think! **


	22. Chapter 22

**Thank you all so much for your reviews – I love reading them! Wow, chapter 22…that's a lot of chapters! Haha well here's a bit of a Henry/Emma focused chapter! I hope you like it! :)**

Henry wasn't out of Emma's sight for the rest of the night. Though much protesting occurred, eventually the boy succumbed to the exhaustion and fell asleep in her bed. He claimed he didn't want to cause a fuss but Emma was pretty sure the reluctance came from not wanting to share a bed with his mom even if doing so meant he'd be out of harm's way. Although with James setting up camp in the living room he was pretty much safe anywhere he went but he was her kid and there was no way Emma was letting him stay anywhere else.

Her room couldn't have been colder and the chilly conditions were little helped by the window August managed to break on his…adventure. Layers of blankets lined her bed trying to keep them warm with all their might but after Belle's revelation, Emma did very little besides making sure Henry was comfortable and sleeping soundly. She wondered what occupied the dreams of a ten-year old boy – were they action-packed or scary? Funny or sad? Did he fret over what happened in the day or was sleeping the only time when he didn't?

To think that Regina would have the gall to come back and tear Henry away from his family was unbelievable. She must know that everyone in Storybrooke wanted her blood for suppressing any hope they had of a happy ending. So if she was willing to make an appearance any time soon she must have a plan. Emma could never tell another soul of how scared she was; technically she was the saviour and was assumed by many to possess a certain type of valour and bravery to face any kind of situation that was thrown her way, but she was petrified of what Regina could do now that tables had turned yet again. And then there was the whole 'Can Belle be Trusted?' problem her family had to face. She didn't know her and James undoubtedly had reservations about talking her word at face-value, and learning that she was in love with someone so…so…creepy and intimidating and well, evil invited less faith in her. But what was the other option? Go about their business as if nothing had happened and leave the door wide open for her to swoop in? That definitely wasn't an option now.

When her mind was finally too tired to function anymore, Emma grudgingly closed her eyes and let herself drift away from all the troubles that harassed her.

* * *

"Good morning, Emma," Snow chirped from the couch in her pink and grey sweats jotting down some things on a notepad. On the ground lay a sea of crinkled, crumpled blankets that her parents had used to sleep on the night previous. Obviously Snow wasn't willing to be apart from her husband and decided to join him roughing it out under the ceiling fan.

"Morning," Emma said groggily, provoking a yawn. "Where's Dad?"

"In the shower; where's Henry?"

"Getting dressed. I promised to give him privacy for that aspect of sharing a room." She placed herself down next to the brunette.

Snow laughed lightly. "How'd you sleep?"

"About as well as I could, considering," Emma conspired, resting her head in her hands. "You?" she asked.

"About as well as I could on the floor," she answered truthfully. "You know, I've never noticed it before but the ceiling fan does exactly one-hundred-and-twenty rotations per minute; did you know that?" She gazed up at the fan, watching it as it did its rounds.

"_Wow. _It was that bad?"

"No, I did fall asleep at some point because when I woke up my arm was strewn across your father but for the time I was awake it was…different."

"Well, I appreciate you guys staying guard but Henry wasn't getting out of my sight last night. I'm afraid your sacrifice didn't amount to much."

Snow turned her shoulders toward the blonde. Absentmindedly, she took a few strands of Emma's hair and began to untangle any knots she had with her fingers. "We were happy to do it and we'll continue to do it until all this has passed. We're your parents and Henry's grandparents and we will do anything in our power to make sure that you both are safe. So if that means leaving the warm, cosy surroundings of my bedroom then so be it."

With that Henry sauntered down the stairs and greeted them. It didn't take too long for Emma to register the lacklustre attempt at cheerfulness. "How'd you sleep, kid?"

Henry rubbed his eyes and stretched widely. "Not so great," he admitted, "I could practically feel you watching me."

"I was not watching you," Emma defended.

The boy sat on the coffee table opposite his mother. "Yes, you were," he said with a slight chuckle. "But it's okay; I know you're just looking out for me." Though his sparkle had returned, he still looked a little distracted and withdrawn.

Emma scooted forward to lean her arms on her thighs. "You are safe with us, Henry. None of us will ever let anything happen to you." Snow rubbed circles on her daughter's back as she heard the vow and the truth in Emma's words. It made her heart burst with love to see how wonderful a mother Emma had become and to see how, even in dire circumstances, her daughter stepped up and promised to look after her son despite not knowing him until a short time ago. The power of love was an amazing thing to witness and to feel, like she did toward Emma.

Henry shifted uncomfortably, his eyes facing the floor. "What are you guys going to do to her if she comes here?"

James emerged from the bathroom running a towel through his short blonde hair. "We'll deal with it when the time comes; don't worry, Henry."

"Are you guys going to kill her?"

The question was so simple, so short but it was enough to still the room. Emma watched her son bore holes into the ground, weighty emotion in his posture. It never occurred to her that Henry would be upset over the fate of his adopted mother. It was true to say that while he was afraid and angry at her, she still raised him and that counted for something.

"No of course not, sweetie," Snow interjected giving Emma a knowing look. "Right, Charming?"

He ran hand through his damp hair and folded the towel neatly, throwing it over the chair. Regina was the reason why everyone's lives were turned upside-down, why he was separated from his true love and his family, why they were all stuck in Storybrooke. She deceived them all and acted only with extremely selfish tendencies. And that was putting it mildly! Sometimes he imagined what it would feel like to live in a world where Regina could no longer hurt them, where she couldn't cause harm to anyone close to him ever again.

But as he thought of his amazing, energetic, vibrant grandson he couldn't help but feel sad for him. By his question, Henry clearly was conflicted at what to do. He evidently understood why his family were so eager to fight for and protect him, but he had spent all his life living with Regina as his mother – she was bound to have some kind of effect on him whether it be good or bad. "No, I don't feel that's necessary."

"But what if she fights?" His voice was rising now.

Snow put a comforting hand on his leg. "Everything will be okay, Henry. We promise." But her words seemed to fall on deaf ears as Henry shot up and ran back upstairs to the bedroom.

Emma buried her head in her hands again, upset over her son's distress. None of them had the answer to any of his questions – at least not honest answers. The truth was that they didn't know what was going to happen if or when Regina popped in; and to say that there wouldn't be bloodshed or some kind of magic war was lying to him. She guessed that there was nothing she could say to him to ease his mind but to see him upset was heart-breaking. With a loose nod to her parents, Emma heaved herself off the couch and followed the trail of angst up to her room.

* * *

Henry was face down on the bed with his arms resting under his head. From what Emma could discern there was no tears shed - much to her relief. Seeing her kid cry would only set her off. Tentatively she ambled around the bed and lay on the opposite side facing the ceiling, her hands lying across her stomach. "I want to be honest with you," she said eventually with a sigh, wishing that they were never in this situation in the first place.

Henry peeked at her from under his arms. "Then _be _honest," he begged. "What will happen when she comes here?"

Emma turned her head to see him. "Honestly, kid, I don't know and I can't speak for grandma and grandpa. But if Regina thinks she can pounce on us like some kind of predator and steal you away from me - us- then I'm literally going to do anything I can to make sure that she doesn't succeed. And _that _is the truth."

"You'll do anything?"

Emma braced her jaw. "Anything." She realised that 'killing' and 'violence' fell under the heading of 'anything' but Henry wanted the truth and that was how Emma felt. Yes, Regina raised him but Regina was the reason why Emma wasn't raised by her parents, the reason why she didn't know of her parents or her destiny. As far as Emma was concerned, she was Henry's mother and that was that – she loved him with every fibre of her being and she would protect him for as long as humanly possible.

Henry turned onto his back to look up toward the sky. "But she has magic now." He said it as if she was oblivious to that fact.

"I know."

"You'll be no match for her!" the boy exclaimed, jumping up to his knees. "Don't you get it? She can strike you down with one blow!"

Emma used her elbows to prop herself up. "I don't care; all that matters is keeping you safe."

"But you can't do that if you're dead!" He was yelling now and Emma had never witnessed this type of aggression from him before. "Then you can't help anyone!" He grew silent as he held back some tears. "And I can't have you hurt…I just can't. I…I need you, mom."

"I'm not going anywhere, kid. I promise."

"You don't know that. She has magic and you don't. I'd say those are pretty tough odds."

She sat up with her back against the backboard. "But none of us will just sit by and let her take you away, Henry." She was talking firm now, getting his undivided attention. "You are my son who I would do anything for and yes she has magic and that makes everything a whole lot messier than I would like but the facts are still the facts and I am going to fight for you with all of my heart." She looked at her son for some kind of manifestation of what he was thinking. "Are you worried about her?" It was a question that she needed to ask but really didn't want to.

"Maybe a little," he confessed bashfully.

"That's okay; she raised you." Emma sounded diplomatic but she couldn't believe how much that hurt her knowing all that she did now. Knowing that her son was around _her _was a hard pill to swallow.

Henry was quick to explain his reasoning. "I know she's evil and can't be trusted and tried to destroy your family a lot but there's a part of me that just…I don't know. She wasn't bad all the time. Like, when I was growing up I just knew her as 'mom'; the person who gave me medicine when I was sick and who celebrated my birthday every year with my favourite chocolate cake. That was who she was. It was only when I got older when I realised the type of person she was and what she had done. And I know that you guys just want me to be safe and happy and will do whatever it takes for that to happen but I'm just scared – for everyone." He moved so he could be sitting against the backboard too. "I don't want her to hurt you or your parents because I know that she thinks that's the only way she can get to me – you have to be out of the picture."

Emma suspected as much; after all, she already attempted to poison her and put her in a deep sleep for all eternity so any other form of violence on her part was very much expected. But she was ready for that, wasn't she? She had to be if she wanted to put up a fight for Henry's sake. Of course deep down she knew that Henry was the only thing Regina did love and she would never hurt him but there was no way that she was going to go down easily. Not without all the fight inside her. "Look, Henry, I love you, okay and no matter what, you are my first priority; anything I do is for you. Just remember that." He nodded and she drew him into a warm hug. He hugged her tightly as if afraid to let go and all Emma could do was embrace him back. She pulled back with an affectionate kiss on his forehead. "I can't believe you don't have faith in me; I am the saviour after all," she joked with a little laugh which invited one from Henry. She pulled him in again for another hug.

Suddenly a knock came from the door and James made his way in. "Emma could your mother and I talk to you for a moment?"

"Yeah, sure. Stay right here, okay?" she said to her son.

"Okay."

She broke away with a smile and headed down the stairs after her father.

**I hope you all enjoyed it! So what did you think? Please, please review and let me know! It'd make my day ;) **


	23. Chapter 23

**Again, thank you all so much! You guys rock! I hope you enjoy this one :)**

**Unfortunately, I do no own OUAT.**

Feeling a little redundant now that Emma was upstairs talking to Henry and James was busy brewing up a pot of coffee, Snow picked up the blankets from the floor and began to fold them with clean precision. She laid the result on her lap, further smoothing out any creases that popped up. It was then in that calm serene moment when the room was at its quietest and only the shuffle of daily life could be heard that Snow's worry revealed itself to her. It was crazy how quickly her life could take a turn; how the tide could change in the space of a few hours. Just days ago she was revelling in her happiness - a happiness she should have known wouldn't last. They weren't at home where happy endings were very much a real thing; they were in Storybrooke – in the real world where the hope of living happily ever after was more of a joke than a reality. And now hearing that Regina was circling them, waiting to make her next move put her on edge.

She flipped over the blankets and smoothed out the other side as if it was of extreme importance that she do it a certain way. Back and forth, then left and right. She didn't even notice James watching her from across the room until he cleared his throat to mark his presence. "I think it's as smooth as it's ever going to be," he chuckled, taking a sip of his piping hot coffee. He let out a sigh of content with the taste.

Snow did one more rotation before placing the sheets onto the coffee table. "You know how I am." She stood up and straightened her top before strolling over to the rest her elbows on the counter, facing her husband.

He took another mouthful and put his cup down so his hands could lean on the counter top. "You're worried," he affirmed.

"What gave it away?" she asked sarcastically, playing with the bowl of sugar James had left out.

He leaned in closer to her and she mirrored his movement until their noses were almost touching. "I know you, Snow White. I may have spent twenty-eight years away from you but I know how you are." Even now as they had been reunited for a time, he still internally grimaced when he cast his mind back to how long he was separated from his love. The time seemed unbearable and impossible; especially now as he couldn't imagine ever spending longer than a day away from his beloved. There was a part of him that never wanted her to leave his side or to let him go when holding him in an embrace but he realised how selfish that would be. To keep the beauty and the incredible that was Snow all to himself would be depriving the world of the most amazing woman he had ever met.

"I'm just worried about what will happen," she said, searching his sparkling blue eyes.

"If she comes," James finished.

"_When _she comes," Snow elaborated. "Trust me, if she thinks there's a way to get Henry back then nothing's going to stop her. I've known Regina for what feels like forever so I know that besides power, nothing means more to her than Henry."

Feeling the emotion emanating from her, James locked his forehead with hers and closed his eyes. "The worst thing about all this is that Henry is the one who suffers the most. We need to figure out what to do if – when the time comes."

Snow pulled back ever so slightly to caress his cheek. "That's something we need to discuss with Emma." Her hand travelled to the back of his neck and she ran her fingers through his hair.

"I know," he breathed. He opened his eyes to gaze at his wife, his hand mapping her arm. "I love you, Snow." The sentiment seemed to have come from nowhere and it indeed caught Snow unawares but the way in which he said it sent butterflies fluttering in the pit of her stomach as if it was the first time he had ever said it.

"I love you, too, Charming." She bridged the gap and locked his lips in a passionate kiss, their worries falling to the wayside for that small moment.

And James could have stayed in that moment forever but there was something that they had to do. As she pulled away, he leapt in again for another swift kiss. "I'll go get Emma."

* * *

Emma ran her hand along the bannister as she made her way downstairs, her fingers traipsing over the nooks and rough edges of the wood. She hadn't realised how cold it had gotten and her arms instinctively tightened around her body. Snow – always the prepared one - handed the blonde one of James' chequered shirts and ordered her to wear it in that strict yet worrisome tone that she embodied oh so well since assuming her role as mother and without delay, Emma tossed the overly big shirt over her shoulders. "Thanks," she mumbled, pulling it in close to her. "So what did you guys want to talk about?"

Snow slipped back onto the stool. "How's Henry?" she deflected.

"About as well as can be expected," she replied as she wandered over to them, "Confused more than anything else."

"It must be so hard for him."

Emma waited for them to explain why they needed to talk though she had her suspicions and her assumptions which all led to the same place – Regina. She felt a tickle at the back of her throat and released a chain of unhealthy splutters, nearly doubling over onto the counter. In a second Snow was by her side, gauging her temperature with her hand and wrapping the shirt around her even tighter. "Emma if you're not feeling well, you should really go back to bed."

"No, I'm fine," she insisted weakly as she was tired of pleading her case. There was way too much going on now to be diverting much needed attention onto something far less significant. It was just a virus and it would go away in due time. "Can we please talk about whatever you wanted to talk about?"

Knowing how relentless her daughter was, Snow ushered her onto a stool and assumed a position next to James. "We just wanted to see your views on what we should do should we find ourselves in a position where Regina may cause a bit of a problem?" Her father didn't want to upset her nor did he want to beat around the bush – with Henry involved, nothing was black and white.

Emma inhaled deeply. "I told Henry that I will do anything to protect him if that's what you wanted to hear. He's the one who matters here; he's the one who is most affected by whatever happens." So plain, so simple. James had to admire her determination to defend her son and make sure that he, above all else, remained safe. That was the code he lived by: family first.

"So you're saying that if there was no other option, Regina would have to be…thwarted?" Snow, much to Emma's surprise, seemed the most uncomfortable with that game plan. Emma figured that with all that Regina had done to her and to her life that she would have the same stance on the issue at hand. "I mean, sweetie, she isn't just the mayor anymore – she's somebody who wields dark power."

"Exactly, that's why I feel like _that _may be only way to resolve this."

"Emma I realise that Regina deserves everything she gets but for Henry's sake I don't think that that is best plan of action." Snow pushed some hair behind her ear, a little shocked at Emma's boldness. She expected it from James but thought that her daughter would be less about the spilling of blood and more about rationalization. They couldn't just go around talking about killing somebody – especially not someone so close to home for Henry or someone so powerful. "Besides she is much more powerful than us. If anybody was going to cause destruction it'll be her."

"What are we supposed to do?" Emma cried, getting more and more frustrated at her mother's lack of conviction. "We can't just stand by and watch her do terrible things and let her take Henry away! Doing nothing, being passive – they're not options!"

"Well we're not killers, Emma!" Snow yelled back. "I know I wasn't there for you growing up but I know you and I know you have a strong sense of morality; I mean, you work for the law!" She tried to soften her voice but it was too late – it was like it was projecting all on its own. "So…you know _murder_ is never the answer no matter what the question."

Despite alluding to it, the mere fact that Snow muttered the word _murder _felt wrong.

James let them exchange words – albeit heated words – without passing comment but things were becoming a little too intense for the kitchen. He could see both sides and agree with them but he had to stop this verbal battle before it got out of hand and things were said that couldn't be taken back. "Okay, look let's remember what our main objective is: keeping Henry safe and with his family. We have to act with his best interests at heart and we won't be doing that if we're being reckless and making sinister back-up plans."

"Then what do you suggest we do?" Emma asked slightly exasperated, her chest starting to ache again. In a somewhat childish gesture, she laid her arms on the counter using them as a pillow for her cheek.

Even though irritated at her stubbornness, Snow couldn't suppress a smile at her daughter's action.

"I'm not exactly sure but I do think we need to be prepared," James announced, relived that the two women were backing-off.

"I think I know what to do." At the same time, Emma and James drew their eyes to Snow as she sat contently on the stool, interlocking her fingers.

"What do you mean?" James inquired, his tone coloured with alarm.

"I mean I've just been thinking about it and I might have a _different _way of handling it," she described simply.

"Snow, what are you suggesting we do?"

She lowered her voice, her eyes locked to her wedding ring. "This was all my fault. All of it. And it's time for me to step-up and resolve this once and for all."

"What are you saying? You didn't cause this; this was caused by an evil woman who thrives on the unhappiness of others. None of what happened to us was your fault."

"Maybe not," she whispered, "but Regina has always had a grudge against me and seeing me miserable has always been motivation for her. She cast this curse to separate us forever and I don't think she'll ever be satisfied until we fix whatever problem she has with me."

Emma's face contorted into all various forms of confusion. "So…what are you planning to do?"

"If she comes here, I'm going to talk to her."

"Talk to her?" The blonde's eyebrows shot up.

"I know it's not exactly what you both had in mind but honestly were you really going to go all pitchforks and torches on her as soon as she appeared? You both know that isn't smart because of what she's capable of; maybe the softer approach is the solution."

"Okay so we'll talk to her together," James said, seemingly on board with his wife's idea. To be honest the idea of torches and pitchforks did appeal to him to a certain extent but upon hearing Snow's rationalizing, he knew it wasn't the most smoothed out plan. Maybe –just maybe – this way might bring desired results.

"No, this is something I think I should do alone. Regina and I have a score to settle and if I'm with her then you can keep our family safe." She put a hand over his but he jerked it away as soon as he felt her heat zoning in on him.

"Need I remind you that the last time you confronted her alone she poisoned you and sent you into a deep sleep?"

"Yes, but if I remember correctly you woke me from that," Snow pointed out.

James slapped his hand against the counter in aggravation. "Snow you know things are different here - magic is different here. Things that worked back in our kingdom don't work the same way here! If she pulls something, I…I don't think…I don't think I'd be able to bring you back." His voice trembled toward the end but his manner remained obstinate.

Now it was Emma's turn to watch her parents converse heatedly. She stood up from her stool and quickly excused herself. "I'm gonna go check on Henry," she said before jumping up the steps as fast as she could. Her mother's idea did sound reasonable enough, possibly more so than planning some kind of assault and while she was not a fan of letting Snow face Regina alone, Emma thought it best to leave it to her parents to sort it out among themselves.

"Charming," Snow breathed.

"No, Snow you clearly haven't thought this through! What exactly is this talk going to do? She's not going to just disappear and leave Henry be with us; it's all or nothing. And there's no way that woman is being a part of his life. So we both know what that leaves us with."

She stood up to wrap her arms around his neck. "I know, I know. I don't know what this will achieve but I'm the reason she's so unhappy and I need to at least try. I never said, 'Don't have a back-up plan', but Regina has been a mother for ten years; she has something else in this world now that she cares about and she doesn't want anything happening to him. I can relate to that."

"So you're going to kill her with kindness and hospitality?" It was meant as a joke but it came out more serious than intended.

Sensing that this may become yet another thing that causes friction between them, Snow conceded for the time being. "You're right. I haven't thought it out properly but that doesn't mean that it's not the right move. But can we just forget about it for now? We still have a sick daughter to tend to." She kissed him fiercely on the lips in apology and he was only too keen to oblige, just content that for now, he had her and his daughter and his grandson with him.

**I realise that this chapter was quite angst-driven and if it was a bit of an overload I do apologise! And I'm hoping that the plan is that Regina will make an appearance in the not-so-distant future. So what did you all think? Please review and let me know! :D**


	24. Chapter 24

**I only realised that I've reached over 200 reviews – that's so cool! Thank you! As always, I hope you like what you read! :)**

**Unfortunately, I do not own OUAT.**

Later that evening when the sun was beginning its descent below the horizon, spitting various shades of orange and red over the town, Snow and James were perched on the couch while Emma and Henry rested on the floor, all of them basking in the relaxed atmosphere that pervaded the apartment. They had all agreed that they were not going to bring up or mention anything to do with Regina; they'd just push it aside and enjoy being around one another. And in between those moments of laughter and ease, Emma found the ability to do just that – to suppress the anxiety that ate her from the very moment the warning stung the air. Only to a certain degree, of course, but she was just calm enough to feed off her son's effervescent energy. It was like that boy was on a constant loop; one minute he's practically bouncing off the walls in exuberance and the next he's brim-full of worry.

Snow and James were cuddled up against one another with Snow cradling her head upon her husband's shoulders, her knees brought up to her chest. James' head rested on hers, their fingers interlaced. Emma, on the other hand, was drowning in a sea of woolly, Christmas blankets trying not to plunge any further into the sickness abyss. The colour of her face was now a translucent tint of ghost as the heat of her body evaporated with every exposure to the chilly air. Luckily those blankets were starting to work their magic by the time sunset was upon them.

Henry, always the one to keep the conversation flowing, was as curious as ever and seemingly eager to rid them all of the grim thoughts of earlier. "So, can I ask you something?" he directed at Emma.

"Sure."

He waited for a short time, gathering his words. "How did you feel when you first realised who your parents were? Like when you _really _realised?" His eyes were alight with animation and wonder.

Emma pulled the blanket up to her chin when she felt the two sets of eyes burning a hole in the back of her head. They all wanted an honest answer, something true, something real. It wasn't the time for spinning yarn about how wonderful she thought her life would be or how easy the assimilation could be. "Well, actually, I realised a little earlier than you think," she said.

"What do you mean?"

For a split-second Emma was convinced that she could hear her parents breathe just a tad bit deeper. Unwilling to turn around and face them, she planted her eyes on her son. "When you were taken into hospital, I went through your bag…looking for answers, I guess, and I took out your fairytale book. And I…then…I don't know, I just had these flashes of the stories in it."

Henry was kneeling now, looking like a kid about to unwrap his birthday presents. So eager, so excited. "So you saw your story? You saw grandma and grandpa put you in the wardrobe?" Quite the perceptive child.

"In amongst other things," she disclosed.

"And?"

She took a breath before responding, her hands clutching the wool for courage. "To be honest there was a lot of things going through my head at that point," she started, her shoulders high and tense, "but there was this sense of…relief."

"Relief?" It was no secret that James was enthralled now, as he slithered forward on the couch leaving Snow's head resting on air but she too was keen to hear more. Even his tone was begging for an elaboration.

Emma decided that it was time to spin around and actually face the child-like gazes her parents were wearing. If she didn't know better she would be convinced that they were having a 'who can widen their eyes the most?' competition.

"What do you mean by relief?" Snow repeated, making sure that Emma wasn't weaselling her way out of answering. She fixed her hair and clothes in one, rapid fluid movement like she would if she was readying herself for an interview. Or an audition.

Suddenly it felt like the blankets were suffocating her and Emma wriggled out of their grasp, allowing the cold to tingle along her skin. In a twisted way the cool air was a sweet respite when compared to the smothering nature of the blankets. "I don't know; to know that everything that Henry was saying and what I've been feeling all along was actually true was just relieving. To actually have an explanation as to why I had these connections to people I had never met before was something that I had yearned for, despite not knowing it until that moment. To know that those feelings didn't evolve from my sense of being alone; that I didn't just transfer what I was feeling onto my friends – there was a reason for it all. I wasn't going crazy! And that moment was the most empowering and distinctive moment of my life; I had fresh incentive and determination to save Henry and to beat Regina once and for all." She paused to smile at her son; the beam reaching her eyes that released nothing but affection toward him. "For that brief moment, I was awakened to the world that I've always wanted to be in – a world where I know my parents and a world where I can have both them and my son." Her eyes dropped to the blanket strewn on the floor, scanning the design. "The anger and confusion and overall bewilderment came later."

Snow reviewed Emma's words in her mind, repeating and going back over what she said and realising that the blonde's ability to string words together so easily obviously came from her father. She, herself, could put together a relatively good speech when she put her mind to it, but never on the spot the way Emma and James could. And the one thing that Snow took from her daughter's speech was the fact that none of the feelings that she felt in that fleeting moment were negative; it was a tremendous amount of information to obtain at one time but she took it and used it to her advantage, propelling her deep into a search for a way to save her son. It was heroic and romantic and very much a 'Charming' thing to do. _Like father, like daughter, _she laughed inwardly.

"What made you ask that?" James inquired with a grin full of pride. Emma was definitely assuming her role as the daughter of royalty. Even the tone she adopted while she spoke became more and more confident and sure. He pushed up his shirt sleeves and put a hand on Snow's knee, giving her forehead a swift kiss.

The boy adjusted his position by crossing his legs Indian-style. Absentmindedly he took hold of one of his shoe laces and, rhythmically, began to wrap and then unravel it around his index finger, his facial expression undoubtedly innocent. "Because I know what it's like to find out who your parents are," he replied. "I mean, when I found that you were my mom I was confused but really excited because I knew who you were. You were the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming, which meant that_ I_ was their grandson - which was way cool! And I thought that maybe you felt the same way when you first realised; I know you were angry but I figured that underneath it all you were just as excited as I was."

Emma, shivering again, covered herself with the blanket and leant her body against her father's legs to keep her frame upright. She had never thought of it like that; she was too upset and angry at them to stop and consider their true identities. At the beginning there was a lot pulling away and avoidance and it wasn't until she released those twenty-eight years of resentment and hurt that she gave that little, tiny piece of information a thought. And yeah, it was pretty cool _then_. But she didn't want to dash her son's hopes of bonding with his mother. "I was excited," she said. "It took me a little longer but yeah, it was very cool."

Henry seemed elated at her answer and shot her a huge, toothy smirk. Jumping up as if he had remembered something, he trotted over to the refrigerator, and took out a jug of juice. Too short to reach up to the cupboards, he used the counter to boost himself up to open it and retrieve two glasses.

"Ah, you read my mind, kid," Emma commented as she watched him manoeuvre.

"Oh no, that's not for you," Snow scolded in a warm way…if that was possible. "You think I can't see you shivering down there, trying to steal your father's body heat? You're still sick; you have to go to bed."

"But I don't want to go to bed," she protested.

"Emma," James warned, "listen to your mother."

"But I'm not tired."

"You need to rest and you're not getting any better sitting down here."

"Guys, I-"

James towered over her seated figure. "Do you want me to make you?" he teased.

Emma crossed her arms under the blanket, her eyes narrowed. "And how exactly would you do that?"

"Oh he'll show you," Snow played along, winking at her husband and cradling her chin in her hands.

Before Emma could catch her breath or defend herself, James had scooped her up into a fireman lift and held her close to his chest with effortless grace. Emma tried her hardest to squirm out of his grip but her attempts were useless. Apparently her father was one strong man. "So the choice is yours; you can go up to your room like you were told or I can carry you and you can die of embarrassment…what'll it be?"

She sighed in defeat into his chest. For people who were trying to decide on how to parent, they sure got the 'going to bed' problem sorted. "I'll go, okay? I'll go, just put me down." Heeding his daughter's request, James carefully placed her down on her feet and patted her head in a teasingly condescending way.

"I'll be up soon to check on you," Snow said, smiling at the blonde's expression and with a cheeky grin back, Emma meandered up the stairs, the blanket trailing behind her.

* * *

Snugly enclosed by her layers of blankets on her bed, Emma discerned that her parents were right in sending her up to her room. Rest was something she really wanted. She was not one for showing weakness and though she knew it wasn't, she hated being so sick that it was obvious she needed someone to look after her and tell her what to do. She had to admit that James' method garnered desired rewards; a tactic she never thought of using on Henry but in all fairness, Henry was a great kid who adhered to orders without a word.

As she lay, Emma found herself examining the contents of her room. It was pretty bare; a bedside table sat next to her, decorated only by a pink lamp, a dresser sat neatly beside the door, holding personal items such a jewellery and perfume – which in truth was not a lot, a wardrobe, and a few boxes in the corner of stuff she didn't feel like unpacking. As her eyes perused, she found them halting on the boxes in the corner as the hazy gleam of the moon shone through the break in the curtains and illuminated them.

Peeling back each cover one by one – her eyes glued to the corner – she pulled herself away from the comfort of her bed and crept over to them, trying desperately not to make a sound. When she reached the first one she opened it, taking care not to break or rip anything that may be inside. It appeared to be filled with all sorts of papers and Emma hauled out a handful, inspecting their content. Mostly they consisted of old receipts for, well, just about anything, but something glistened under the light and after a short search, Emma found the culprit. She lifted it up in front of her eyes as if to persuade herself that what she was seeing was real.

It was a Mother's Day card she made when she was just eight years old.

Emma remembered that, as a class project, everyone had to make a special card to show their mothers how much they meant to them. At the time Emma was in a house where the mother spent most of her time away from home, leaving the kids alone to fend for themselves. She recalled how upset she was over this project and how she wished that her real mother was with her, that she would somehow magically – of course – appear and take her away to some place…better. So this card was her little way of telepathically celebrating the day with her real mother. It was a simple card; pink with lots and lots of gold glitter. There was a drawing of a mom and a daughter holding hands – or what appeared to be that considering her drawing skills at eight were about as good as they were now…which was practically non-existent. She ran a hand over the front, some glitter shards sprinkling down to the floor.

A knock came on her door and without a word, Snow slipped in to find Emma out of her bed. "Emma, what did I tell you about going to bed?"

When Emma failed to summon a response, Snow stalked over to her to see what she was so enthralled with. "What's that?" she asked, her voice soft and smooth.

Finding some kind of hidden courage inside of her, Emma handed the little card to her mother, holding her breath. Snow's eyes remained firm on Emma's until she let herself break away and study the colourful card in her grasp. "This belongs to you."

It was the most beautiful thing Snow had ever seen. She had been privy to glorious landscapes of mountains and trees her whole life but none of them could ever replicate the feeling she got holding something that Emma, her daughter, had made for her before she knew who she was. The tears began their duty.

"I made it when I was eight," Emma said, standing up in front of the brunette. "I forgot I even had this, but I think it's time you had it."

"Oh, Emma, it's beautiful," she breathed with what little breath she had. She opened it to see what was written inside it. It was very simple and to-the-point. Very Emma-like. Snow followed the lopsided handwriting down the card, smiling widely at her daughter's use of blue crayon to convey her feelings. One particular part she stopped on brought forth more salty tears that trailed her face and ended on top of her lips; it read, 'I really hope that I can meet you one day and we can play and do all sorts of mommy and daughter things together' – or something like that; it was kinda hard to figure out.

"There was nothing I wanted more than to meet you and just get to know you. Every Christmas I wished that my parents would show up on the doorstep of whatever house I was in at the time and whisk me away to somewhere amazing. It's silly but I thought that if I made this card, then somehow you'd know that I was looking for you."

Not really sure what to say, Snow ran her hand through Emma's blonde locks, her tears multiplying. "Thank you," she whispered, pressing the pink card to her heart.

The two women stood, locked in emotion when a knock echoed from the front door.

**These past few days have been so hectic so I'm sorry if it's a little disappointing when compared to other chapters but I promise that things will move forward soon! Anyway, I do hope you liked and please review and tell me what you thought of it!**


	25. Chapter 25

**Hey all! Thank you all so much! Sorry for the delay this week; there's been so much going on! But here's the next instalment and I do hope that you enjoy reading it! :D**

**I do not own OUAT.**

It was a tender, loving moment between mother and daughter; a short-lived moment broken by the rapping of the outside world from their doorstep. Emma could see that Snow wanted to ignore it and stay there for just a little longer but eventually she surrendered and put down the memento Emma had given her from her childhood. Clearly Emma had underestimated the power of something she had made when she was just a child; something she had made when she was younger than her own son. Snow opened her mouth to say something but at the last second decided against it, just giving the blonde the most proud, adoring look Emma had ever seen anyone give.

* * *

"Aren't you guys going to get that?" Snow asked as she trumped down the stairs, her arms flinging in the direction of her husband and grandson who were munching on chocolate biscuits and chugging glassfuls of orange juice.

James gave the woman a slight shrug, forcing another biscuit into his mouth with a smirk. There was something so child-like about the way he acted when he was around Henry, and though Snow was miffed at him for leaving whoever was at the door outside she couldn't help but forgive him instantly.

And pretty much nothing could diminish the elated state with which she held herself following the time she had just spent with Emma.

Or so she thought.

With a little effort, she pulled the door wide and was met with a familiar face. An all too familiar face.

Her blood curdled and turned cold, draining from her face. Her hand was glued to the door handle, her eyes fixed on the guest. There were so many things rushing through her brain at one time and she wanted to say, no, yell them all at the top of her lungs but it was like her brain and her body were totally separate entities, no longer connected and she ended up mute and still, urging herself to do _something _but alas, failing.

Snow's hitched breath alerted her family members and each broke away from what they were doing to join her only to realise what had the brunette so stupefied. Immediately, James flung an arm out in front of his wife and backed them quickly away. "What are you doing here?" he demanded, his jaw so tight is teeth were creaking. His breathing was slow and deliberate most likely to keep his anger in check. He would have loved nothing more than to wipe that smug smile off her face…for good, but he wouldn't allow himself to go down that path.

At least not yet.

It was as if Regina hadn't seen or heard James speak as she looked right through him, her stare never wavering from Snow. There was something so eerie and so chilling about the way she smirked, the way in which she held herself, the way in which her eyes glazed on Snow. "Snow White," she drawled, "long time no see, dear." She took exactly two steps forward.

Not willing to let her intimidate him, James stood his ground but from the corner of his eye he could see Emma take hold of her son's shoulders and pull him into her.

"What do you want?" Snow repeated, the shakiness in her voice ruining her solemn expression.

"Rumour has it that someone has been…relaying information about me to you and I just thought that I'd clear the air in person." The conversational tone she applied only made her seem more sinister. In fact, she looked rather indifferent, like this whole thing was taking up much of her precious time. Precious time spent crafting evil, as Emma regarded it.

From some place deep inside of Emma, a steely courage reared its head, taking over. She dared not move from her place for fear of what James would do to keep her safe; he was trying to remain calm but his eyes were wild with a whole array of emotions, most of which were leaning toward fury. She extended her neck but kept Henry tight against her, though he did put up a bit of a struggle. Ultimately he understood that provoking his mother any further would only produce sour results. "So you just decided to drop in for some tea?" she asked sardonically, "I thought you were all powerful now; why use the front door, why not just pop in _magically_?"

If it was any other person, Emma knew that Snow would have scolded her for sneering at somebody, but today she sensed that her mother was too preoccupied with Regina's imposing figure to show any signs of disapproval.

However, Regina wasn't too impressed with the question and eyed the blonde as if her inquiry was the dumbest thing she had ever heard. She crossed her arms and flicked her hair out of her eye-line. "Because, Miss Swan, in case you haven't heard, magic is different here. There are certain limitations that not even I can exceed, and I don't think it would be very smart of me to waste magic on popping in and out of places."

It surprised Emma that Regina even divulged that much about magic; she assumed it was off limits yet there she was referring to it as if it was as dull as the weather.

"You said you wanted to clear the air," James bellowed, pushing Snow further back behind him, "what have you come for?"

She pulled at the lapels of her navy blazer. "Why, Henry, of course, darling. You didn't think I was here for a catch-up, did you? Of course not because you were told that I was coming. I'll decide what to do with that someone later," she muttered, her voice lowering with every second before rising again. "You have something that belongs to me and I would like it back," she directed at Emma, her face clouding in admonition.

Reflexively, Emma tucked the boy behind her and stood taller, her chin raised. "He doesn't belong to you; he's _my_ son."

"Oh and who raised him for his whole life while you were running around Boston or wherever it is that you came from trying to repress any memory of the baby you abandoned? You may have given birth to him but I was the one to raise him; that makes me his mother, Miss Swan, not you and frankly, I think it would be easier and admittedly far less painful for everyone if you just do what I ask."

"You. Are. Not. Getting. Him," Emma emphasised, not giving in to Regina's tactics. She hadn't noticed it at the time but Regina was inching ever so slightly closer to James and Snow as she talked, her distraction almost working.

"Well that's a shame; I thought reason would be the less stressful way to handle this but I'm afraid that's a decision I can't work with," Regina sighed, letting her hands free to encircle the air in front of her. Emma braced herself for the blow. Would it hurt? Would it kill her? Or send her to a place much worse?

Would she ever see Henry again?

Or her parents that she had just come to know and love?

All of these thoughts surged through her mind in that one moment where Emma believed that this was it; this was Regina's ultimate revenge.

"Wait! Wait!" Snow yelled, breaking away from James' barrier. Regina paused her incantation.

"Oh, Snow, you have very good timing," Regina snarled with a grin when she dropped her hands to her side.

Snow closed her eyes. "Please, don't…look your problem is with me; not with James, Henry or Emma, so please leave them out of it. This – all of it – is about me and the grudge that you have against me."

"Oh, poor little Snow White. It's always about you, isn't it? How _you_ wanted to interfere in matters that were none of your business because_ you_ thought that _you _could make a difference. And here you are again making everything about you." She stopped to examine the brunette. "And pleading? Really? Whatever happened to the tough, stubborn woman who was seemingly able to survive anything?"

Snow wasn't having any of her patronizing and in an instant, it was like she was transported back to the Snow that James had known and whom Regina had described. She brought back her shoulders, shaking off James' touch and glared her nemesis in the face, her gaze unflinching. Emma had never seen anything like it; one minute she was the mother she had come to know and the next she was this whole different person - a more commanding and self-assured woman. "I have a family now," replied Snow without a hint of timidity. "Things change."

There was an undercurrent of threat in Snow's voice that made Regina rock back on her heel but it wasn't enough to alter her fierce expression which only intensified into something far more menacing. No wonder people trembled in her presence. "Well, sorry to disappoint but my being here has nothing to do with you and whatever…issue I have against you is not at play. I'm simply here to retrieve my son."

"He's not a lost item, Regina," James boomed. "And I will not have you speak of him as if he is some useless possession you wish to attain!" His temper flared, he jolted at her, grasping her neck with his hand.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," she choked out, her face turning red as her breath caught in her cheeks.

"Oh yeah? And what exactly are you going to do?" he growled, tightening his grip. Fuelled by his intense desire to keep his family protected, Regina's threat only supplied James with added incentive to be rid of her once and for all and his clench was unrelenting. He was sick of the sight of her and the way she acted as if she was the puppet master and they were her worthless marionettes, toying with them any way she could. Well not anymore.

From the malevolent glow of Regina's eyes and the squeezing of her fists, Snow was keenly aware that the woman wasn't playing around. Manipulation was not the only way Regina could exercise power – not when something as potent, though unpredictable, as magic was nearby. She couldn't allow James to be subjected to Regina's wrath – not when she was the one who started it all. "No, James, let go! She's not worth it!" She took hold of his free arm and, with all her force, dragged him away and brought him alongside of her.

His hand now gone, Regina slapped her hands to the soon-to-be bruised neck and coughed desperately for air. She was frantic with rage now, her body stiffening as she raised her hands to put an end to her misery. To Regina, magic seemed the only option left to get what she so desired and to finally to be happy. A world without Snow White and Prince Charming and their sickening love for one another that could 'conquer all' was everything she had ever dreamed of. It would be a place where their happiness wouldn't be thrust in her face every moment of every day, taunting her and her loneliness; only, she wouldn't be alone if they were gone - she'd have Henry. And a world without the manifestation of their love would be simply perfect. No more Emma Swan.

"Regina, please don't do this," Snow said again, throwing herself in between Emma and Regina and luckily so, considering Regina looked like she was about to level the room. Henry was visibly upset now, tugging his mother's white top, obviously fearful for her safety. But Emma, not one to back down for a fight, appeared to be shaking her limbs as if readying herself for a fight, wanting to prove to Henry that she would do anything for him. "Let's go somewhere we can talk. Just us," Snow compromised.

"What? No, Snow!" James insisted, holding onto her tight, afraid to let her go.

"Mom, you can't!" Emma echoed.

"No, no. It's time we settled this. Don't you think?" She refused a glance at her pleading husband in case she collapsed under the weight of his stare.

Regaining her composure, Regina raised her eyebrows at the brunette's resolve. "You want to talk? Fine. Let's talk." She gestured to the door and started to step backward in its direction.

Everything was too calm; background noise from the town had dissipated into nothing, and both James and Henry seemed lost for words. Snow broke from James stronghold but abruptly turned to rest her forehead against his. Closing her eyes, she soaked in his warmth, breathing in his scent. She never wanted to forget how he smelled, the way he looked at her as if she was the only one in the world, the way he loved her so _fiercely. _In her head she kept telling herself that she would see him again but there was no point in denying the glaringly obvious – she was more likely to come out of this talk dead than alive.

She reached out and took the blonde's two hands and squeezed them tight, feeling the calluses of her daughter's turbulent life. Even if it was only for a short while, she and Emma had formed a bond that could never be broken and she had experienced the love of being with her daughter; that was enough to give her strength in that moment.

With a short but sweet ruffle of her grandson's hair, she scurried to the door Regina had now opened with exaggerated listlessness due to the affectionate display in front of her.

"I'll be back soon," Snow assured in the steadiest voice she could muster.

"Don't hurt her!" Henry shouted as the door closed with an ominous click but he feared that his words would amount to nothing.

**So what did you guys think? Too much? Too little? Haha I hope you all enjoyed this little showdown and as always, please, please, please review and let me know what you thought about it! :)**


	26. Chapter 26

**Sorry there was a delay…again! But thank you all for reviewing and following – it means so much! I hope you like what you read…**

**I do not own OUAT.**

When the door closed, blood pounded in James' ear and every shuffle of sound was muffled and distorted. There was no way he was just letting Snow go with that woman. There was no way he was letting her die. That wouldn't accomplish anything; she had to know that, right? Her death would just be a triumph for Regina and become a symbol of the power she possessed. No, he was not losing his wife again, and his daughter was definitely not going to face the rest of her life without her mother.

Without an ounce of hesitation, he sprinted to the bedroom, falling onto his knees in front of what appeared to be an old toy chest. Emma hadn't noticed that particular piece of furniture before; probably because it was held hostage by a mountain of clothes and a bunch of small, useless items that stack up over time. With a mighty whoosh, James shoved everything off the top, sending them all flying across the room and crashing against the wall. He unclipped two gold clasps at either end and threw the lid open - with such force that the chest itself nearly toppled – which revealed a prime-conditioned sword encased in a sea of red velvet. James lunged for it and held it up in front of his face, inspecting the detail as if making sure it was really there.

"What are you going to do?" Emma whispered, leaning over her father's crouched figure. Henry was silent again following his outburst. Just standing in the centre of the apartment, staring blankly at the floor. She thought it best to leave him; to let him work out whatever was chugging through that mind of his. And she didn't know what to say for even she was at a loss for words. She didn't want to let herself fully understand what had just happened and there was no way she would let her mind drift to the idea that she'd never see her mother ever again – the pain was too great to take. Like a knife making small incisions around her heart.

James raised, his eyes planted on the sharp weapon in front of him. "I'm going to go after them," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. Bending down, he picked up a sheath and wrapped it around his waist. With purpose he slid the sword into the sheath and turned around to face his daughter.

"You don't even know where they went." She was all for action but he needed to think about what he was doing…and what he was planning on doing.

Her father's cheeks were red as if he was holding back tears. "Well then I guess I better go." He grabbed his leather jacket and flung it over his shoulder as he moved past his family.

"Not on your own, you're not," Emma said, taking hold of his arm mid-step. "I'm going with you."

"No, you're not." His eyes burned.

"Yes, I am. You can't go alone; that's a suicide mission, dad."

"I know what I'm risking but I can't put you in danger."

"I'm not a kid and I'm coming with you. End of story."

James leaned in closer. "And what about Henry? Huh? What happens to him if something happened to you? You can't just leave him here while you put yourself on the line. You're his mother, you need to protect him."

"I'm coming, too!" Henry exclaimed, just about hearing the exchange in the other room. Then again, he most likely knew what they were talking about. It wasn't that difficult to figure out.

"No way," Emma snapped. "You're staying right here."

Henry raised his arms in frustration, trying to get them to see his point of view. James was itching to exit the apartment, his foot tapping the floor impatiently. "Your mother is right."

"Don't you see? I'm the one she wants. If you don't bring me and she catches you guys following her, she's going to come after me."

Funnily enough – or not so funnily enough as the case may be – Emma hadn't thought of that. "Oh."

Despite the circumstance, the boys smiled tightly. "You see, by leaving me here you'll be putting me in more danger."

Emma arched her neck backward and closed her eyes, realising that her son was right. Her hands rubbed her face vigorously at the craziness of it. If Regina smelled any part of their plan, she'd snake away and make sure she'd snatch Henry from under them. No way. No how.

"You stay right next to me and never, under any circumstances, leave my side…got it?"

"Got it." Emma drew him into a brief but full hug, her hand stroking his hair.

James, though putting a hand on his grandson's shoulders, tensed again. "We have to go."

* * *

One by one they dashed down the lanes and alleys of Storybrooke, splashing their way through puddles that accumulated due to the heavy rain falling in sheets upon them. The darkness of the night and the downpour mingled together to make visibility conditions precarious and every now and again, they all had to stop to get a bearing on where they were. And the elapsing time was only contributing to the bleakness of the situation they were in.

"Dad, wait!" Emma called after he stormed ahead. She clutched her son's wrist in an effort to catch-up, her son immediately picking up the pace.

"Emma, I can't stop." His back was still facing her but his jog slowed into a skulking walk.

"But we've been looking for ages and we haven't found one clue as to where they've gone. Maybe we should stop and think about what we're doing." They finally reached her father. Only, he wasn't her father but a shell of the man she knew. It was almost as if his body had been taken captive by some unearthly being and all that remained was an emptiness, a man lacking feeling. Yet, a man dedicated to a cause.

"Where could they be?" James whispered to himself. He was like a lost child, searching the sky for answers, his left hand glued to the sword in readiness for use.

"Well her house was destroyed by magic and the storm made it worse so she couldn't have gone there," Henry conspired, clapping his hands together like in prayer and resting his mouth against them.

"But Regina has magic now; she could be anywhere," Emma reminded rather coldly. Sure Regina said that she wouldn't waste magic on silly things but she had Snow with her and that situation alone would call for extreme measures that would involve incantations and purple mist and…whatever other properties magic consisted of.

James huffed in exasperation. "I don't think Regina was humouring us when she said that there are limitations now and I can't see her using it and dealing with whatever repercussions may arise. They have to be around here somewhere." He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and let out a long-drawn sigh. As his fingers grasped the fabric inside of the pocket, a brush against something small, yet solid, alerted him. Not thinking much about it, James clipped two of his fingers around the item and took it out to have a closer look.

It may have been densely dark and the rain may have been falling progressively heavier but James would know that ring anywhere. It was his mother's ring; the ring she had given him to give to his one true love. The ring he had given to Snow to wear as a promise that he would love her forever.

"What are you doing with Grandma's ring?" Henry quizzed, sidling up beside his grandfather, craning his neck to get a better view.

"Snow must have slipped it to me before she left."

"Why is it shining?"

"Shining?" James repeated, lifting the ring into the air. "It's shining!" he exclaimed.

"Does somebody want to explain to me what is going on?" Emma pulled back her long, now saturated, hair into a stiff ponytail as she watched her father's face illuminate in comprehension.

"There's not much time to explain but this ring is enchanted and will lead me straight to Snow. It's dimmer than usual but that could be because of the restriction here." He placed it on the palm of his hand and both he and Henry watched it with extreme care. Emma wasn't exactly sure what an enchanted ring meant but if it would give them a way to save her mother than she wasn't going to question it.

All power to the ring and all that.

After a moment, Henry pulled back. "They're close!" And without further delay, the three of them tore down the street tracking the path the ring had set.

* * *

The pounding of the rain off the pavement was deafening and added to Snow's feeling of hopelessness. Not only was she being pushed through the streets of Storybrooke in the worst weather imaginable, but the thought of her untimely death haunted her every move. Regina was angry – angry enough to do something drastic.

But no, she refused to be intimidated. Underneath that cold, harsh exterior lay a normal person. A woman who had experienced true heartbreak and had survived tumultuous times. And Snow could relate to that. Yes, some of her pain was caused by Regina but ultimately, they were just two people. Just two people who had been locked in this cosmic battle for as long as Snow could remember and they had to change that and move on. It was now or never.

"Where are you taking me?" Snow asked as Regina pushed her hard in front.

For the first time Snow could recall, Regina seemed to hesitate. Perhaps the rain was muddling her thoughts, too. Even the chill of the rain was giving her a headache and as she advanced forward, she felt her movement become robotic as her clothes hung forcefully off her body, weighing her down.

"Regina," Snow prompted, twirling around and startling her. "We can't keep doing this."

"And what exactly is that?"

"Fighting," Snow yelled over the drone of the torrent. Could it be falling any harder?

Regina scoffed. "My dear, Snow, we are not fighting. Fighting is so juvenile; what we have runs much deeper than a mere scuffle of words here and there. _You _started all this – not me and don't for a second think that anything you say to me will change the fact that you betrayed me and ruined my chance of being with my true love."

As she pushed back her drenched raven hair off her face, Snow realized how sick she was of having to defend herself; how sick she was of hearing Regina read off what happened so long ago. And, she was sad; sad because she could still feel the sheer heartbreak that consumed Regina's whole identity. "How many times do I have to apologize for something that I did when I was just a kid? Something I did because I thought I was helping you? I never ever wanted to hurt you, Regina. You were going to be my stepmother and do you know what? I was looking forward to having you as my mother because you were the type of woman I wanted to be when I was older; somebody I could look up to and aspire to be like. A mother that was my friend all at once. The last thing I wanted was to make you unhappy. If you believe only one thing of what I have said, please believe that." She only noticed then as she concluded that she was crying; but thankfully that was masked by the incessant storm.

Regina appeared upset, too, but Snow wouldn't dare speak out of turn. Not in the state she was in. She constantly had to remind herself that magic could rear its head at any unforgiving moment. "If you cared about me at all you wouldn't have said anything to my mother." And just like that, Snow was transported back to a time when she knew Regina as a young girl about to embark on a journey into marriage and her happily ever after. Back to when she was just a young woman. Nothing about Regina's comment was cold; rather, she sounded dejected, like she, too, was tired of it all.

"I was just trying to help, but you know that. You've always known that."

* * *

Speeding up with every stomp, finally Emma was able to hear voices in the distance and was sure that within a matter of moments they would find Snow. But the thing that worried her the most was what her father would do as soon as he caught sight of them. In the emotional state he was in, anything was possible.

As they rounded a corner, Emma stopped dead in her tracks. Up ahead, Snow and Regina stood opposite one another in what was certainly a tension-filled verbal altercation. At least from Emma's vantage point no blood had been shed. That had to be a good sign, right?

"Get back, get back!" she hissed at her father and son. "Quick, before they see you!" The boys threw their backs against the stone wall.

"What's happening?" James demanded.

"I don't know; it looks like they're both just…talking."

"Talking?" James raised his eyebrow, breathless from all the exertion of energy.

"That's what it appears to be."

"That's not going to end well."

The blonde shook her head briskly. "No, but what are we going to do about it? I mean, you can't just jump up from behind her and be all swashbuckling with a sword."

"I'm not a pirate," James corrected with the slightest instance of irritation.

"I just meant that it's not going to work."

Her father shook the running water off his crinkled leather jacket. "Well, we'll just have to see." He zipped around the corner. "Hey, Regina!" he howled. And as she spun to find the source, she saw the tip of a sword soaring through the air, aimed at her heart. With a grand thrust of the heel of her hand, Regina invoked just enough of her magical strength to steer the sword away from her and onto the ground. Although, even Regina seemed to be unimpressed by her own ability.

"You really think a sword is going to save you?" she growled, snapping out of her crestfallen haze as if remembering why she was out in the rain in the first place.

James charged toward her, unfazed by her smug expression. Again, with what looked like every shred of energy she had left, Regina plunged her hands into the open air, flinging James up into the air before plummeting him to the ground with extreme force.

"Dad!" Emma screamed, running over to his still body.

"Charming!" Snow echoed in anguish as she ran to him.

"You all underestimate the power I wield. Maybe now you'll understand that there's nothing you can do to beat me!" Her anger was evident in every part of her domineering frame.

"Why are you doing this?" Henry cried, leaning over his grandfather, trying to shake him awake.

Regina softened gradually, a tear escaping her eye. "Because I want to do what's best for you and what's best for you is for you to be with me, the person who raised you."

"What'll it take for you to stop all this?" He straightened now, allowing the downpour to ricochet off his slender shoulders. Regina didn't answer, unsure of what to say. "I'll come with you if you leave them alone."

"No, Henry!" Emma screamed, attempting to get to her feet.

But it was too late. Henry stepped so close to his adopted mother that with a swish of purple they were both gone, leaving Emma sobbing on her knees in the storm.

**Okay, so this story is going to come to close in the near future; there may only be one or two more chapters left so I hope you all stay until the end! Ha So what did you think? Please review and let me know and don't be afraid to be harsh! I hope you enjoyed it :D**


	27. Chapter 27

**So here it is! Thank you all so much!**

**I do not own OUAT…unfortunately. **

Henry couldn't quite describe the feeling. Moving through time and space, with the world he had always known flying past him, his adoptive mother clinging to him for dear life while his birth mother and family were left behind. Where they were going he didn't know, but it was somewhere far away. Though, deep down he knew they would still be in the confines of Storybrooke since no one could leave – despite the assumption that they could once the curse was broken. Few have tried but none have succeeded, so Henry understood that Regina was not one to risk it.

Finally the movement screamed to a halt and they were left in the dark, dreary woods with nothing but the hue of distant light to guide them. Even though the situation itself was bleak, Henry didn't feel threatened. If anything, Regina was subdued, lost in thought and evidently despaired over what had taken place. No, the only thing that feared him was the notion that he had just seen the last of his family. For a while she didn't speak, but stared into the distance with a reserved, detached manner. Henry toddled over to a rock that lay at the base of a large tree, gently laid his jacket over it and lowered himself onto it slowly. Waiting for her to spark the conversation, he planted his two feet in front of him and rested his elbows on his thighs, his hands locked together.

"Is he going to be okay?" Henry muttered. "James?"

Regina broke her stare to look at him, her arms crossed. "He'll be fine," she said as she kicked a clump of cold dirt.

"What are you going to do now? What's the plan?"

"What's with all the questions?"

Much to her surprise, Henry jumped up from his seat. "Because you took me from my family! I think I'm entitled to some answers."

The kid was clearly fired up but Regina was in no mood for his attitude. A part of her simmered with joy at the possibility of Henry actually choosing her as the parent he wanted to be with –like the way it used to be – but no amount of lying or tricking herself could obscure the blatant truth of the moment which was that the only reason Henry went with her was to save his family. His real family. And that truth was more painful than she ever thought possible. Knowing that he chose a family that he had only recently connected with over her fuelled the doubts within her until she was numb, unable to feel anything at all. They say that a loss of a child is something that never leaves you and though Henry was alive and standing – defiantly, it must be noted – mere steps away from her, the emotional detachment that saturated the distance between them couldn't be denied.

"I don't know," she confessed using the bark of a tree as a place of rest. A thousand thoughts swarmed her mind, each one more convoluted than the previous but one particular idea struck so hard it was like she was beaten with a shovel. She could let Henry go; let him go back to the family he so desperately wanted to protect and be with. Lord knows that was the option he'd be praying for.

But she couldn't just let him go. Letting him go meant losing the last sliver of happiness that she had. And she couldn't go through that again; the pressuring ache that crushed her ribs whenever she let her mind wander to Daniel was excruciating enough without adding the loss of her son into the mix.

With treacherous eyes she scrutinised herself in the dark woods, raising her arms up and down in intense concentration. A navy trouser suit, white blouse, blood-red lips, and dark, whipped hair. For the first time in a long time, Regina felt uncomfortable in her own clothes and wished for nothing more than to feel the fabric of her outfits past on her skin. Her clothes were a symbol of her status, of her power and when she wore them, she felt like she was in control – of both her own destiny and the futures of others. It was silly, she knew, to believe that a piece of cloth could make her feel worthy and influential, but she couldn't help but feel undeserving in her attire. She wasn't a mayor; she was born to be a Queen.

"You feel it, don't you?"

Bewildered by her son's – yes, _her _son – question, she dropped her arms and fixed her eyes on him. "Feel what?"

"The difference. You feel out of place here; like you don't belong in this world. That's why you keep looking at your clothes and stuff."

"You always were perceptive," Regina smiled without humour. "Yes, I do but that's because I don't belong here. Nothing here is the same and I fear it never will return to the way it was."

Henry cocked his head to the side. "You seem sad about that," he deduced.

"Maybe I am sad."

"Is it because your magic isn't as strong?"

Regina began to pace up and down as spits of rain blew onto her face. "Magic is power, Henry. You of all people know that; after all, you were the one who knew about the curse all along. And now any control I had here has disintegrated. So yes, I'm sad because even if I try, I'm never going to be a step ahead and Snow White's very existence is going to make my life a living hell." Her face scrunched, the words spat out with venom.

"It doesn't have to be like that. She's apologised, you could just forgive her and move on-"

"Move on? There's no way she gets to be happy with the perfect family and I get to be alone. There's no justice in that. I didn't deserve to have my life and my future ripped from underneath me and because of that woman, I had to live alone with only memories and shreds of hope to cling to. Snow White should never be forgiven for what she has done to me and to my life."

Henry noted that Regina wasn't angry as she spoke; she just sounded upset. She was like a person on the brink of breaking down under the weight of every emotion that swelled her being. Obviously being a ten-year old boy meant that Henry wasn't as well versed in the language of love and all that stuff as others, but he was smart enough to know that love was one of the most important and potent things in the world – in every world.

And then he was stuck; he didn't know what to say to make her feel better and worried that if he defended Snow any further, Regina would fall deeper into her depression. Even now as he peeked at her from under his eyelashes he saw nothing of the Evil Queen that dominated the stories in her selfish, cruel ways. He just saw the woman who looked after him for as long as he could remember. A woman who was suffering from a broken heart.

Silently, beady tears slipped down her cheeks. Her energy drained, she threw herself down onto the ground, forgetting that the earth was damp. She brushed back her hair and wiped away the residue of the supposed water-proof mascara she so tentatively applied earlier that day. "Do you care for me at all, Henry?"

That was a question he didn't need to think about. "Of course I do," he said, the words flowing off the tongue. "You've been my mom since I was just a baby."

"But you still chose _them_," Regina murmured.

"I was forced to choose. There was no way I could have both you and my family in my life; not as long as…"

"Not as long as I am the 'Evil Queen' and your grandmother is Snow White," she finished, her tone defeatist.

"They're going to find me."

Finally Regina lifted her chin to inspect the brown haired boy facing her. "I know."

* * *

"James!" Snow shrieked as she tried to waken her husband and sobs quaked in her chest as his eyes flew open. "Oh, James, you're awake," she breathed in immense relief, pulling herself together.

"Are you sure?" James croaked and winced as he moved his legs.

"Can you sit up?"

With tremendous effort and strength, James managed to heave his body upright, using his wife in assistance. Only then as he was seated did he see and bear witness to the distressed cries of his distraught daughter.

Emma was on her knees on the rain-sodden street crying into her red leather jacket, muffling her anguish. Her long, blonde hair – now in a pony tail – slung across both her shoulders and acted as a curtain, separating her from the rest of the world.

All James wanted to do was run over to her and pull her into his embrace and tell her that everything would be okay, that he'd make it better. But he didn't know what had her so upset; yet a quick glance around the area made that answer obvious.

Henry and Regina were gone.

"What happened?" he asked Snow who was also watching Emma with penetrating eyes.

"Henry left with Regina to save us." Her voice wobbled so much that James was sure she was weeping also but he daren't look at her for fear of losing it himself. Little Henry…gone and into the clutches of the person who had made his family miserable. And he did it for his family.

He really was a Charming after all.

But Henry was coming back to them, to his mother…and he was going to stop at nothing until that came to pass.

Sitting on the ground with the damp cobble lock scraping against the problem part of his body was not the way forward; he had to stand and wrap his arms around the blonde. With all his might, he somehow got to his feet but the ache in his lower back was piercing and he jerked his hand to the spot, hoping the gesture would cause the throb to subside.

No such luck, however.

Wordlessly, the brunette offered her shoulder as a means of aid and James accepted it without hesitation.

"Emma, honey," Snow soothed, rubbing circles on her back. "Don't worry; Henry's a clever boy and knows that we'll do everything in our power to get him back."

"But what if everything in our power is not enough?" Emma whispered, slowly getting upright again.

"It will be," her father assured, the words boiling in sincerity. He gradually made the few steps to her and, with his free hand, caressed his daughter's face. "There's only so many places in Storybrooke they can go, remember? Magic or not, the Charming's will always win out over evil."

"And I think I might know where they are," Snow added with confidence.

* * *

The sounds of the forest pervaded the night; the crinkling of leaves, snapping of twigs and hoot of the owls all exacerbated Henry's sense of being alone. Regina was still seated across from him, her frame hunched over and her face a blank canvas, but she said nothing. Not a word. The chilling, eerie silence was like a mist that was progressively inching its way closer and closer until it smothered everything in its path.

Suddenly, the tousling of bushes from the trail to his right startled him and he lurched to his feet and roused Regina from her contemplative stupor.

* * *

The forest was the only place that made sense and, according to Snow, the only place where the connection with their Enchanted Forest could truly be felt. If Regina was looking for some kind of link to the old land, this would be ideal.

Though James was still injured and thus moving slowly and awkwardly, they were making progress. But progress wasn't what Emma was searching for; the only thought that entered and remained in her brain as she trekked was her son.

And ,maybe methods of attack against Regina if she laid a finger on his head.

"There's a clearing up ahead, we can rest for a bit," Emma heard Snow say to her husband who was having a hard time keeping up with the blonde's pace as she continued her march.

"A rest?" she asked, disguising the need to catch her breath.

James sighed. "No, no," he insisted, "we have to keep looking; I'm okay, really."

"No, you're not! Look at you, you can hardly stand up straight," Snow cautioned, extending her reach to take his broad shoulders in her grasp to hold him steady. She shot her daughter a sympathetic look but there was an urgency behind her eyes that made Emma accept the fact that she should adhere to her mother's orders. Plus, there was safety in numbers and she understood the advantage of having parents with knowledge of well, how to use weapons and the like. And a rest would probably do her a world of good; get the mind cleared and the emotions in check. That was the only way she'd be able to be on top form when it came to facing Regina once again.

"We won't stop for long," James said, wincing as he lowered onto a tree stump.

"I'm worried, mom," Emma said lowly aloud as she dropped herself onto the forest floor.

"I know; me too."

* * *

Now Regina stood tall as the ruffling became louder and more distinct. Whatever it was –whoever it was- was getting closer. In a rather motherly move, she swept Henry behind her and clenched her fist in anticipation for what was to come but what appeared was possibly one the last things she or Henry expected.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded.

* * *

"It's too dark," Snow stated worriedly as they moved along much slower than previously. It seemed that the little break they took hindered them more so because of how black the night had become and due to the excessive rainfall earlier, a dense fog was beginning to set, making visibility practically non-existent.

"This might be the fatigue setting in but I swear I can hear voices not too far away," Emma conveyed, charging through despite not being able to see.

And she was right, there was noise in the distance, and so the three of them quickened their walk which became more of a jog. And then a sprint.

They just reached the point when a purple cloud exploded in front of their faces and a searing cry echoed from tree to tree.

James, Snow and Emma looked on, shell-shocked and confused at what had just happened.

"Henry," Emma breathed.

**So…? What did you think? I tried to make Regina seem more real and I hope that came through…writing her as just plain evil didn't seem to work right.**

**Okay guys so here's the deal: the next chapter will be the last of this story…which is actually kinda sad :( I feel like I've taken this story in lots of directions and probably could do more but the show is starting back in two weeks so I think it's a good time to finish for now! Though, I'm pretty sure I'll probably end up doing another story soon enough! haha ;)**

**But for now I hope you enjoyed this chapter and please, please, please review and let me know if I've destroyed the story or not :P haha **


	28. Chapter 28

**So here we are; the final chapter! :( I realise it's much longer than other ones but there was just so much to do! Thank you all so much and I hope you enjoy the final installment…**

**I do not own OUAT.**

Now Regina stood tall as the ruffling became louder and more distinct. Whatever it was –whoever it was- was getting closer. In a rather motherly move, she swept Henry behind her and clenched her fist in anticipation for what was to come but what appeared was possibly one the last things she or Henry expected.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded, her eyes the size of saucers.

The slap of his cane against the mud as he sauntered toward them provided the ominous, foreboding backdrop to the already spooky atmosphere of the shadowy woods. "Well, that's certainly not the way to greet one of your oldest friends is it now, dearie?" Even in the pale moonlight, Rumplestiltskin's grin still had the power to send shivers down Henry's spine. Though knowing him mainly as Mr Gold, which in itself was altogether creepy, Henry couldn't hide his uneasiness in his presence and was thankful for Regina's firm stance in front of him.

"We are not friends," hissed Regina, her breathing loud and deliberate as if trying to warn him off from making another move.

Accepting her warning, Rumple rooted himself a few feet away from her, the palms of his two hands resting on the top of the cane. He was still dressed in Gold's clothing; black suit and shirt with a blood-red tie to add a splash of colour into the mix. "Aren't we? Two people with as much…history as us surely have struck up a friendship over the years. Or are you forgetting the roles you and I have played in one another's lives for what feels like…forever? Why, we have been practically joined at the hip on several occasions. Perhaps, even confidantes may be the more accurate term to describe what you and I have."

"I don't care much for your trip down memory lane you conniving little ba-"

"Ah, not in front of the child," he scolded, cutting her off.

"What do you want?" she repeated with more fire, feeling the fibres in her muscles tighten.

He pursed his lips and moved the top of the cane in a circular motion, picking up clumps of dirt on the process. "Originally, my plan was to show up and exact revenge for what you did to me and my Belle; to demolish any chance you had of regaining a sense of happiness – and, I have every reason to do that. But fortunately for you, I've had a moment of enlightenment," he explained, fixating his gaze on Henry. "You see, I've had my eyes opened and it's all thanks to Miss Swan. I've rediscovered something that I thought I had lost forever; something that you – actually – told me was gone: my Belle." Regina gulped, fearing the worst. His tone was calm, conversational and yet, underneath all that was a subtle hint of disgust. "Why _did_ you tell me that, dearie?"

Regina remained mute, not because she was afraid of his reaction or because she didn't want to reveal her intentions, but because she didn't really _know_ why. She could chalk it down to her need to destroy everyone else's happiness just so she didn't have to be subjected to it and in turn, subjected to the piercing truth of her own loneliness, but perhaps that wasn't it. Perhaps it was something that ran much deeper. Either way, she had no answer.

"Now I have a fresh new perspective on life; a new lease you might say. Now I have a renewed sense of purpose. I am no longer driven by lust or want; I'm driven by the most powerful thing man has ever known – love." He took a few more steps forward but halted when she began to curl her lips into a snarl. "And that's what makes the world go round, isn't it? It makes us do crazy things and drives us insane when we are without it but ultimately, it is the one thing that links us all. The desire to love and be loved courses through our veins and becomes our motivator; it shapes and moulds all of our actions, and sometimes it tricks you into thinking that what you're doing is the right thing. Ring any bells there, Regina?"

She raised her chin, clutching Henry's arm. "What exactly are you getting at?"

"Oh, I think you know," he whispered back. "Take for example…this." He used a hand to point at her defensive crouch. "I'm not sure what you're trying to achieve or prove here but this isn't the way to do it."

She didn't want to let anything he said get to her, but she was livid. Who was he to show up and run his mouth off about what she was doing? He, of all people, did not have the right to say a single word to her! If she was any way confident in her own power, she would have made him disappear with one swipe of the hand. Maybe that's just what he needed; to be taught a lesson. But before she could flinch, he spoke again, his voice droning in her head.

"I know, I know, what do I know, right? Well, trust me when I say that the separation between a child and their parents is, well, it's the worst thing imaginable and whatever good you think you're doing won't add up in the long run. It leads you down a dangerous path."

"Since when are you the voice of reason?" Regina spat, charging at him, pausing when she was close enough to feel his breath.

He narrowed his eyes and smiled wickedly. "I told you; I'm a changed man. I have someone to steer me clear from precarious roads and bad decisions. Someone to tell me not to give into my hate and exact revenge even though I have _every _reason to do just that!"

"You think you know it all? Henry is _my _son! And I am entitled to be with him!"

"Yes, well he's also your…" he turned his gaze toward the sky in thought, "step-great-grandson. Or have you forgotten that teeny tiny detail?" he laughed huskily, inching backward. "Think about that before you do anything you'll end up regretting, my dear. Family is strong bond that can never be broken." And with that, he vanished back into the forest, leaving nothing behind but the stench of his cologne.

* * *

_Family is a bond that can never be broken…_

That was a phrase Regina hadn't expected to come out of Rumple's mouth. Usually, he was spiteful and mocking, without a good bone in his body and yet, he came to meet them just so he could persuade her to do the right thing. It was all so bizarre but Regina couldn't fight the voice inside her head that kept repeating that phrase. Technically she _was_ related to Henry in a twisted way considering how young she was and felt – she did definitely did not look like a ten-year old's great-grandmother – and there was some solace to be found in that truth but that could not diminish the fact that she loved him like he was her own.

Still, because of that, it was as if her maternal instincts were jumbling together and screaming at her to rethink whatever plan she was putting into practice. As a mother, a huge chunk of her knew that being on the run and constantly looking over their shoulders was no way to bring up a kid and that no matter how hard she desperately tried to remove herself from the prison that was Storybrooke, Emma and Snow and James would find her and wouldn't stop until she was defeated and they were victorious. Suddenly, her idea wasn't so sharp or bright after all.

Suddenly, life with Henry this way was not feasible. Not in the current situation.

Henry was shaking; partly to do with Rumple's visit and partly because the freezing night air was settling. Regina was pacing frantically, biting her bottom lip and clenching and unclenching her fists, seemingly oblivious to the sub-zero temperature. The boy zipped up his brown jacket to the top, buried his chin into the material and curled his arms around his body, taking in the frozen air only when absolutely necessary. Trying to block out the cold, he let his thoughts drift to Emma and his grandparents, wondering what they were doing at that particular moment. Were they looking for him? Of course they were. He knew that. He prayed that he would get a chance to see them again, despite the circumstances he faced.

Unexpectedly, Regina clamped her feet down and spun to face him. Her face was serene but her eyes told a different story. They were conflicted, hurt, upset…all the emotions associated with misery. She bent down to stroke his cheek with the back of her hand and placed a soft kiss on his forehead.

This was it; this was the moment she was building up to. He'd never see his family again.

"Remember, Henry, that I love you so much," she murmured, crying now.

Instinctively, Henry brushed her cheek with his hand, wiping away the tears.

"I always will, and I'll see you again," she promised, backing away and standing straight.

"What?"

She ignored him, twirling around with her arms out wide, purple smoke getting thicker as she sped up.

"No, wait!" he called and Regina let out a searing cry that echoed off the trees. The purple smoke gathered for the last time and exploded in a loud, ear-aching blast, sending Henry flying backward, landing on his back.

* * *

"Henry," Emma breathed, dashing over to her son, slapping away any purple residue that got in her way. "Henry, are you okay?" She dived to her knees, ignoring the damp mud in the process, and pulled the boy into a long hug. "I never thought I'd see you again," she wept, allowing the reality of the moment to overcome her usually strong hold on life.

"Me neither," Henry choked out, still puzzled and upset over Regina's disappearance. "I'm okay."

"What happened?" Snow asked, rubbing James's back, noticing his lop-sidedness. The effects of that knock earlier exacerbated by the hike.

Henry broke away to take in his family – well, most of them. He filled them in on the conversation he had with Regina and then Rumple's visit, culminating in her decision to go away for now. "I guess she listened to what he had to say," he shrugged, still shaking because of the weather.

"That doesn't make much sense," Emma remarked in her usual sceptical manner. "That doesn't sound like anything Rumple or Regina would do."

"Not at all," Snow concurred.

"You didn't hear him; he was pretty convincing and, well, my mom wasn't all bad; I think she understood that taking me away wasn't the answer," he said, embracing Emma again, just happy that he could see her again. But as he held her tighter than he thought possible, the blonde let out a series of bone-crunching coughs, falling onto her back as each breath sucked the energy out of her like a vacuum. She felt as though she had been holding her breath for the entire trek only now to remember that breathing was absolutely essential for survival; and that, coupled with the illness she was still wrestling with, wasn't pleasant.

"Emma, are you alright?" Snow, as always, was quick to her side to assist in any way. This time she was using her fingers to brush bits of wet hair and damp earth off her face.

"Yeah, it's just cold out here and I don't think I'm fully recovered yet."

"Of course not. We need to get you back to bed," James said, helping her back up in spite of his hindrance.

"So, what, we just go home as normal and pretend none of this happened tonight?" she asked incredulously.

"I'm not saying we forget it, but from what I hear, right now, I don't think we have much to worry about except for your health if we don't get you back home as soon as possible." For once, Emma didn't argue. The emotional turmoil of the past few hours was enough to drain her of her resources used when arguing a point and at this stage she was just too tired and sick to disagree. And, if her father believed that they were safe for now, then so should she. Pulling Henry close to her, Emma began the descent down the hill and out of the forest towards home.

* * *

The heat of her blanket sent shivers of delight through Emma as she snuggled further down in her bed, finding the perfect spot to stay for what was left of the night. The walk home had been brutal and if it wasn't for the knowledge of having son beside her, Emma was pretty sure she wouldn't have made it. Her chest throbbed erratically every time she inhaled, her coughs were becoming more consistent and Snow was more than happy to shovel her spoonful after spoonful of the pink medicine that Emma loved so much…

Just when she was about to droop her eyelids and swim into slumber, the creaking of her door alerted her to Henry's presence. He stood by the doorframe with a small smile on his face. "Hey, kid."

"How are you feeling?"

"Let's just say I won't be running a marathon anytime soon," Emma deadpanned, gesturing for her son to come over. "How are you feeling? You had one eventful night."

"That seems to be happening a lot lately," he laughed lightly.

"You got that right. I mean, I'm all for adventure but the past while has just been crazy! For everyone." She pushed a little bit of hair behind his ear.

"But I'm…okay, I think. I don't really know how to feel. I know she was evil and tried to kidnap me but she still meant something to me; I'm just glad that she didn't take me away."

The blonde sighed at her son's obvious confliction. "You know, in her own twisted way Regina _did _do what was best for you – even if it took a bit of persuasion from an unlikely source."

"Are you actually defending her?" Henry gasped extravagantly.

"I know; I think I'm sicker than we all thought," she chuckled. Stretching his arms over his head, Henry let out an enormous yawn and struggled to stay standing. "You should get some sleep," Emma advised taking in his drunk with fatigue state.

"Yeah," was all he said, hopping over to give her another hug. "Love you, mom."

"Love you, too, kid."

* * *

The boy was only gone literally a few minutes when James bounded through her door, a fist-full of energy and sprite which made zero sense as far as Emma was concerned. Did he not realise how late it was? It was practically morning!

"Have you taken your medicine?" he inquired, shaking the bottle up and down.

The blonde reluctantly moved from her cosy position and strained to turn on her side to face him. "Yes, as soon as I got home and it was as tasty as ever," she replied sardonically.

"Well good because you're due another round soon," he responded with extra zeal.

There was something so calming about how easy her dad interacted with her now, especially when compared to the early days of their reunion. Now, it was like there had never previously existed any kind of awkwardness or hostility between them. And that was the way she liked it. She loved being able to chat to her dad and be completely unmindful of the absent age gap or the truth of his identity. No longer was he Prince Charming or James – a man the same age as her; he was just her father.

Just Dad.

"Where's your head at, Em?"

"I was just thinking about…about how happy I am that you're my dad."

That seemed to catch him unawares – in a good way. "Really? I was just thinking about how lucky I am to have a beautiful, smart daughter like you." He gave her a whimsical, lopsided grin.

"Yeah, you're so lucky!" Emma tittered in between coughing…again.

"Yeah, yeah," he laughed back. "But I'm serious; I couldn't ask for better."

"Me neither." She broke his look briefly, facing her mound of covers. "What are we going to do if she comes back?"

James looked at her affectionately, regarding the wrinkle in her forehead that only seemed prominent when she worried. Now that he thought of it, Snow had the same wrinkle. "We're going to do what we always do; stick together and face it head-on." He said it with such strength and belief that Emma couldn't help but be reassured by his words.

"That's what I hoped you'd say."

"Medicine time!" Snow suddenly exclaimed, appearing in the doorway and joining the party in her room. Didn't any of them know that she just wanted to sleep? It was taking all of her willpower to stay conscious.

"That's my cue to leave," James said, kissing Emma on her forehead. "Sleep tight. I love you, Princess."

This time, when she heard it, she didn't object because it felt…right. "I love you, too, dad."

Even though she had been saying it for a while, the word 'Dad' still lit up his face in a way nothing else could. And it was with that mood he exited her room.

* * *

Emma turned her attention to her mother who, in the blink of an eye, turned into somewhat of a nurse checking her temperature, fluffing the pillows and giving her medicine. Maybe it was the events of the night or maybe it was the mixture of illness and exhaustion but Emma found herself in awe of Snow. Just the way she handled anything that was thrown her way with such clear-headedness and elegance was something to be desired. The way she willingly went with Regina - even though she believed it meant certain death – in order to save her family was so incredible and so noble that Emma wished that one day she'd possess even a slither of that selflessness.

And as Snow went about her business making sure the blonde was comfortable and feeling better – as she had done since the day they had met – Emma found that stillness she had experienced when she was just friends with Snow. That stillness held the promise of never feeling alone again; it meant that there would always be somebody there for her no matter what. It meant that she had a family and that emptiness that ate at her all through her childhood would cease into nothing because she knew she would never feel that ache ever again.

"Okay so is there anything else I can get you? A drink? Food? Something to read?"

"No I think you covered all of the bases."

"Alright, well I guess I better let you sleep." She went for the door, picking up a sweater, folding it neatly and putting it on the locker as she went.

"Wait," Emma said, reaching out her hand. "Wait, mom."

Sensing a tone she was unfamiliar with, Snow immediately stopped in her tracks and moved back toward Emma. "What is it, honey?" Reflexively, she began running her fingers through her daughter's locks, feeling closer to her than ever before.

"I just wanted…I just wanted to let you know that I love you. I know I don't say it or show it often enough but I can't tell you how much it means to me having you and dad in my life. I realise I never made this situation easy and that I wasted precious time together being bitter and resentful, but no more. If tonight taught me anything it's that family is so important; it's what matters most and the bond between family members is something that can never be broken. You guys and Henry are the most important people in my life and nothing and no one will ever come between us. I wrote that Mother's Day card years ago never expecting for my mother to actually read it but when I saw your reaction…it just snapped everything into perspective. I love you, mom and I just want you to know that."

Snow stayed quiet through her daughter's speech, welling up every time she saw the raw emotion written on her face and heard the utter sincerity in her words. This was the moment she had been waiting for; the moment when Emma would drop all of her defences and speak from the heart, not letting anything stand in her way. Now was the moment where she connected with her daughter on all levels. "Oh, Emma; I know you do and I love you, too. More than you will ever be able to comprehend. And that's how it will always be, don't you _ever _forget that. And I'm sorry for everything you've been through but just know that you will never have to face anything alone again, and that wherever our paths take us, your father and I will never leave you. Ever. We love you so much, sweetie." She bent down to kiss her forehead.

Emma wiped away the tears that streamed down her face and nodded in agreement. "Goodnight, Mom."

"Goodnight, precious Emma."

And as the light was turned out, Emma knew that everything her mother had said was true; that nothing will ever get in the way of the Charming family again. They were stronger than ever before, and they would always stick together – until the very end.

**Okay so that's it! God, thank you all so much for all of your reviews, follows, and favourites – thank you to everyone who read it! For something that started off as a five chapter thing, it ended up being 28 chapters long and mainly due to all of your suggestions and reviews so thank you all for letting me continue this story as long as I have! You all rock :D**

**I hope you liked the way it ended; I know it was very long but I just couldn't leave anything out, you know?**

**As always, please review and let me know what you thought of the conclusion. I hope I didn't ruin the whole story with the ending :/ haha **

**Until next time…**


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